


Stronger Than

by NotNecessarilyInThatOrder



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Actually Listens, Arthur Gets A Hint Of His Servant's Hidden Depths, Arthur Learns The Truth, Gen, Merlin Can't Stand To See Arthur Hurt, Merlin's Too Tired To Make Up A Story, Morgana's magic revealed, Part of it Anyway, Possible Reconciliation, Realization, Scar Used To Prove A Point, episode AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-05-02 17:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotNecessarilyInThatOrder/pseuds/NotNecessarilyInThatOrder
Summary: “I said I was dying.” Arthur sighed.“I don’t have time for this.” “Would you have had time to retrieve my corpse?” Merlin thought, then nearly smacked himself when Arthur’s expression made him realize he’d spoken out loud.Could Merlin have told the truth if Arthur had been willing to listen that morning? What would that mean for their future? For Morgana's?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expansion of what was going to be one of my Inktober Prompts but just didn’t seem to fit. Set at the beginning of S3 E2 but goes in a different direction. Title comes from the saying “A scar simply means you’re stronger than whatever tried to hurt you” (Original source I do not know) which I think has a couple of meanings in this story. I don’t own the quote or the Merlin series. Hope you enjoy.

“Don’t give me that nonsense Merlin, I looked everywhere for you. You were nowhere to be found and Gaius insisted you never came home . Now I’ve tolerated you disappearing off to wherever in the past, but with things in their present state I cannot and will not allow anyone to gallivant off without requiring them to account for it. Now where were you last night?”

“Dying,” Merlin muttered, an aching head and exasperation with the state of the Arthur’s chambers prompting him to forgo any excuses.  


“What?”  


“I said I was dying.”  


Arthur sighed.“I don’t have time for this.”  


_“Would you have had time to retrieve my corpse?_ ”  Merlin thought, then nearly smacked himself when Arthur’s expression made him realize he’d spoken out loud.  


The prince took a few steps his direction, looking torn between laughing and throwing something at him. “Alright, I’m going to give you exactly five minutes to explain what it is you are talking about.”  


“There’s... there’s noth-” A hand slashing through the air cut off Merlin stammering.  


“Five minutes Merlin,” Arthur repeated. “Now start talking. And if I find out your “dying” was drowning in the bottom of a barrel of mead, I promise I will make your life so miserable you’ll wish you had never stepped foot in Camelot.”  


Merlin stared at him emotions whirling around wildly inside his head. A part of him wanted to do what he always did - make up some story that made him look like a clumsy idiot and hope Arthur would be too distracted by his father and the kingdom to do more than yell at him. The other part of him was sick of lying, sick of fighting, and at that moment just plain sick to his stomach from being poisoned, healed, and dealing with the long flight back to the castle.  


“You’re down to three minutes now,” Arthur informed him casually.  


Three minutes was not nearly enough time for Merlin’s sluggish brain to concoct any sort of reasonable explanation, so in the end he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind - which just so happened to be the truth. 

“Serkets,” he said.  


Arthur blinked at him.“Serkets?”  


“Giant scorpion things that live in the Darkling Woods. Their venom can be fatal.” Was always fatal actually, but he hoped that fact would slip by the prince. It would raise questions he really didn’t need raised.  


“I know what they are Merlin. Now explain to me just what on earth were you doing messing around in that part of the woods? And don’t say you were picking herbs.”  


“I didn’t-” Merlin sighed and pinched his nose, the urge to tell the truth weighing even heavier on his heart. He turned his head and eyed the prince through his fingers. “Do you really want to know what happened?”  


“I’m all a tremble.” Despite the sarcasm, Arthur expression did hold some sincerity. That was enough for Merlin.  


“When I was tending to your father last night I found something beneath his bed. A root of some sort and it was dripping with a sort of... black goo.. stuff.” Merlin paused, running a hand through his hair. If the prince noticed the way that hand quivered, he didn’t comment. “Anyway before I could figure out what the root was someone snatched it away and hurried out of the castle. It was late and they were in such a hurry I didn’t have time to get anyone else’s attention. 

“I followed them out through the lower town, into the woods and saw them meet up with someone. It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized it was Morgause. She took the root, and the two of them started discussing the fact that the king’s mind was...compromised. The other person asked something about the next step in the plan and they were told Cenred’s army was ready to march on Camelot just as soon as she gave the word.”  


Arthur, who had been looking confused and slightly doubtful up until this point, was now fully alert. “Morgause said this?”  


“The part about Cenred yes. Arthur his castle’s not far from the border. Even with a full army he can make it here in less than three days. We don’t have a lot of time to prepare.”  


“Why would Morgause want to use Cenred to invade Camelot?”  


“Easy, she hates your father. She’d do anything to see him destroyed. And since her scheme to get you to kill him for her failed, she’s had to find some other way. I’ve no doubt whatever the battle going on in your father’s mind is, it was put there by her. And Cenred is an easy ally for this sort of thing. He’s greedy, opportunistic, and none too bright when it comes to people manipulating him. He’d be all too eager to invade a kingdom whose ruler was.. well.. not in the best of health.”

Time limit on their conversation forgotten Arthur started pacing, his mind now fully attuned to what Merlin was telling him.  


“You’re certain they mean to have my father dead before the army arrives?”  


“Either dead or broken. Morgause accomplice said that by the time Cenred’s army reaches Camelot, the kingdom will be without a leader.”  


Arthur turned and considered him. “You overheard all this without getting caught?”  


“Ah, well no.” Merlin shifted a bit pulling at his sleeve awkwardly. “Apparently I’m not as good at tailing people as I thought.”  


Arthur snorted.  


“When they got through talking M- the person that came from Camelot pointed me out. I tried to run but Morgause’s men came out of nowhere and caught me. Morgause tried to question me but when I refused to talk she knocked me out. When I woke up she had bound me in chains and left me to the Sekrets. I managed to get free but not before one of them stung me. The venom I… I collapsed halfway back and only just managed to make it back here this morning.”

Arthur was back to looking skeptical, but Merlin couldn’t go into any more detail without magic being too obviously indicated. So, fed up and exhausted, he did the one thing he could think of. Dropping his jacket and belt over a chair he turned his back to his master.  


“Merlin what do you think you’re doing?”  


“If you don’t believe me, look.” Pulling off his dirty shirt he shifted to give Arthur a clear view of his shoulder.  


The prince’s eyes widened at the sight of the vivid black puncture wound marring the otherwise intact flesh. It was small, no wider than the tip of his little finger but Arthur could see it bore deep into the muscle. The pain of the stinger’s impact must have been tremendous, never mind whatever the venom did. That his servant had even survived such an attack was impressive.  


He reached out slowly, intending to brush his thumb over the scar, then thought better of it and grabbed Merlin’s good shoulder instead, turning him back around. Merlin followed his lead, allowing his tunic to fall back into place.  


“Who was it you followed out of the city Merlin?” Arthur asked, sounding far gentler than he usually would under such circumstances. When Merlin glanced up the prince’s blue eyes were full of worry, and not just for his kingdom.  


That didn’t stop the younger man from hesitating however. Telling the truth so far had been a calculated risk. Anything more might be suicide.  


“Come on,” Arthur insisted, “you must have seen him.”  


“Her,” Merlin corrected without thinking.  


“Her,” Arthur repeated. “It’s a woman committing treason right under my father’s nose?”  


“Almost literally,” Merlin muttered.  


“What?” Arthur frowned then looked distressed. “You’re not saying it was Guinevere who…”  


“NO!” Merlin gasped. “Gwen no, of course not! What would  she  want with Morgause? Or Morgause with her for that matter?”  


“Then who?”  


“Arthur you won’t bel-”  


“Merlin!” the prince ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m not going to ask you again. The safety of my kingdom is at stake as well as my father’s sanity. You know who is endangering them, it is your duty to tell me regardless of whatever you assume I will or will not believe. Now. Who. Did. You. Follow?”

Merlin closed his eyes tight then let out a sad, resigned sigh, met his master’s eyes and whispered, “Morgana.”  


Arthur reeled back faster than if Merlin had punched him. For a minute he looked bewildered and devastated. Then disbelief, that which the mind uses to protect itself from painful truths, creeped in and his shock turned to anger.  


“Merlin,” He said, grinding the name out syllable by syllable, “you’re exhausted and weak and have clearly just been through a trauma, however much you may have brought it on yourself. So I’m going to give you a chance to change what you just said. Now who, exactly, did you see committing treason by conspiring with a vengeful sorceress to kill my father and destroy Camelot? Think very carefully about your answer.”  


Merlin shook his head, trying to will away the tears that were burning behind his eyes. “Arthur.. I don’t..I wish more than anything to be wrong...but it was her. There’s no way for me to deny it, she was collaborating with Morgause. She made no move to help me escape, in fact she was laughing when Morgause’s men were dragging me back to her.”  


For a moment the prince faltered, then he turned away burying his face in his hands. “No. I can’t believe it. Why would Morgana turn on us? We’ve been her family, Camelot is her home. She wouldn’t betray everyone who loves her!”  


The agony in his friend’s voice tore at Merlin’s heart. Long helpless minutes passed before an idea flitted through his brain, one he seized gratefully. “Look maybe..maybe it’s not all her choice,” he said.  


“What do you mean?” The prince asked, his voice dull.  


Merlin licked his lips, thinking fast. “We know Morgause held captive her for a year. Maybe...maybe her escape wasn’t an accident. Maybe she was somehow convinced Camelot is her enemy and came back to exact vengeance. It’s even possible her actions are being influenced somehow.”  


“You’re saying that witch is controlling her,” Arthur growled fiercely although his voice now carried a spark of hope.  


‘Not a chance’, Merlin thought, but at that moment he’d say anything to save Arthur’s faith in someone he loved. He nodded slowly, stepping carefully to Arthur’s side. “Morgana might not even be aware of what she’s doing,” he said gently. “And if she is, than it’s not arbitrary maliciousness. She might genuinely think she’s doing the right thing.”  


The disbelieving look Arthur gave him would have been funny if it weren’t for the sword that got pointed directly at Merlin’s throat. He hadn’t even seen the prince pick it up.  


“In what universe is treason the right course of action?” Arthur asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.  


Raising his hands in a placating gesture Merlin attempted to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t say it was right, only that Morgana might think so. Which means we have more to worry about than just Cenred’s army. Even if we can break Morgause’ influence over her she might not react in the way we hope she will. Magic is a tricky thing, and you know better than anyone how stubborn she can be. Right or wrong, once she’s made her mind up she’ll be determined to see her actions through.”  


Arthur shook his head, lowering his sword. “It won’t come that,” he said with the confident attitude Merlin knew he put on when he couldn’t accept whatever the alternative outcome of a situation might be. “Once we destroy Morgause, her influence will gone too. Morgana will be herself again. In the meantime not a word of this to anyone.”“But shouldn’t we warn-” Merlin stopped when the sword flicked back to him.  


“I won’t have her maligned as a traitor for actions beyond her control. No, we deal with her between ourselves.” Arthur dropped the sword on his desk then moved to a basket on the far side of the room, grabbing clothes out of it that he’d had another servant bring up from the laundry.  


Pulling on a clean shirt he began to formulate a plan. “If she’s acting on Morgause’ behalf then there’s a chance Cenred’s army might try to gain access to the citadel through any of the tunnels Morgana is aware of. Which is most of them. We’ll need to have defenses in place there and prepare the army for a frontal assault. Get my armor then check with Gaius about my father’s condition and also about setting up the infirmary.”  


“Go!” He half shouted when Merlin hesitated again.  


“Sire,” Merlin acknowledged. Grabbing his own clothes he turned to leave, vowing to prepare some magical defenses as well. There was no way the two sisters would rely solely on a conventional attack, not with the power at their disposal.  


“Merlin,” Arthur stopped him at the door.  


“Yes, my lord?”  


“If you’re right then I owe you an apology. And my gratitude,” the prince added looking like he was having difficulty swallowing. “The sooner a battle is prepared for, the more lives can be saved. You’re bringing this to my attention…”

“Camelot is my home too,” Merlin spoke up, sparing him from anymore floundering. As amusing as it w ould be to see Arthur have to squirm for once, there simply wasn’t time. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.”  


Arthur looked surprised at the conviction in his tone and Merlin realized this was the first time he’d ever said anything like that to anyone but an enemy. The first time he’d ever hinted that he was capable of being more than the way he appeared to be day to day. It was another risk, he’d played the fool too long to suddenly become some wise old warrior. But seeing the half smile and nod of respect his future king gave him he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.  


They’d get through this, Merlin thought to himself as he hurried from the room, he had to believe that. And maybe, just maybe, they’d come out stronger on the other side.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot defeated Morgause but it was Arthur who discovered Morgana in the catacombs. They fought but Morgana didn’t show quite the same callousness she did in the episode, she’s angry and afraid but not hateful. Merlin showed up and secretly knocked her out with the ceiling then aided Arthur in destroying the staff. Now Arthur has to deal with what he learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got requests for more of this story and thankfully inspiration struck. It may not suit everyone but I hope you like it, and that it was worth the wait. And if you liked this as it originally was, I didn’t change anything in Chapter 1 so it can still stand as a oneshot. And thank you to everyone who read, commented, and/or left kudos either way. Enjoy part 2!

* * *

 

“How is she?” were the first words out of Arthur’s mouth when he made it back to his chambers.

Merlin looked up from his cleaning and, obviously taking the concern as a good sign, tried to sound positive when he answered. “Banged up, but ok. Gaius said she’ll be sore for awhile but she should make a full recovery. She’s asleep in her chambers.”

A profound sense of relief flowed through Arthur at hearing that. At first. Then the reality of what he’d witnessed from the woman he’d grown up viewing as a sister began to sink in, and the solace was replaced with sorrow and conflict.   

“What are you going to do about her?” Merlin asked.

The prince shook his head, too many thoughts fighting for dominance in his mind. “I wish I knew. This isn’t..Gods Merlin you should have heard what she said!”

“I heard some-”

“To think that she hid this from us for so long. This wasn’t something she was influenced into, she chose this. Why.. of all things, she seen what magic does to people, why would she choose to learn it?”

“Arthur she didn’t learn it,” his manservant was quick to object.

Where once those words would have reassured him, now they just left him numb. “I really can’t take any more false hope Merlin.”

“It isn’t a false hope. Painful yes but not false.”

The prince whipped around to glare at him. “What are you on about?”

Merlin met his gaze and seemed to remember something that caused him to promptly backtrack. “Nothing I di-”

“Don’t!” Arthur shouted, stepping forward and grabbing him by the collar. He couldn’t take any more secrets tonight. “You forget I know when you’re lying. Now what do you know and more importantly how long have you known it? How long have kept this from me?” 

Merlin’s eyes were wide with fear and slowly Arthur released his grip although he kept his servant pinned under his gaze. The smaller man licked his lips a few times and took a shaky breath before he finally spoke.

“You forget I’m not from Camelot Arthur,” he began carefully. “I’ve seen magic come to people through no action of their own. It makes sense that that’s the case here. I mean, how many years has Morgana had nightmares? How many times did she try to warn us something bad was going to happen? How many times was she right? I don’t know much about the subject, but prophetic dreams are a kind of magic. And not one that can be taught. I think it was only within the last year that she recognized them for what they really were. What was she supposed to do then?”

“Stop before this kind of thing happened.”  _ Obviously,  _ Arthur thought.  _ Why would she do anything else? _ “Stop it before it made her turn on everyone who loved her. This is why magic is forbidden, when a person-”

“Stop it!”

Arthur startled at the outburst and glanced back at Merlin. The fear on his face had melted away and replacing it was an anger the likes of which the prince had never seen there before.  

When he spoke again it was with a bite to his voice that anyone without Arthur’s upbringing would have cowed to immediately. “That kind of attitude is exactly what’s going to turn her fear into hatred. If it hasn’t already. Clearly you weren’t the one listening tonight. Or else you would have heard that this has been coming on for years, she’s had no way of stopping it, and no one to turn to for help. Put yourself in her place. She was alone, with magic, in the heart of  _ Camelot _ . She didn’t have to ask for this power, didn’t have to work for it, didn’t even have to want it. Sometimes magic just happens. And when people realize that fact, they also realize they are being hunted and persecuted for something they have no control over. They get angry and rightfully so.”

“That’s enough! I won’t listen to -”

“You’ll listen to me say it here or you’ll listen to Morgana say it while standing over your father’s cold dead body.” Merlin met Arthur’s glare unrepentantly. “Because right now her reluctance to have innocent people be collateral damage is the only thing stopping that from happening. That’s not going to stick around forever, so you have to find a way to reach her and fast. You have to decide that she’s more important than your fear.” 

“I am the Crown Prince of Camelot, you will watch how you speak to me!” Arthur seethed, resisting the urge seriously hurt the younger man. Didn’t he know what he was saying constituted treason?

“No I won’t,” Merlin replied, his voice now surprisingly calm. “I won’t apologize, not for speaking the truth. In fact the only thing I regret about this situation is I didn’t do more to help her when I realized what was happening. No,” he cut off another angry remark the prince was about to make. “I repeat, she was alone Arthur! I know what that’s like. I know what happens when a person’s ridiculed and tormented for a power they were born with and you don’t have the slightest idea what the reason for it is.

“Think of it like this: Imagine if your father died when you were a child, before he let you learn what was involved in being a good king. Imagine you find yourself in charge of the kingdom, responsible for more than you’ve ever thought possible, and you don’t have any idea what to do with that responsibility. You know you want to do what’s best for people, but no one around you offers the slightest support. No one is willing to guide your way and teach you how to use your power properly. Or worse yet you’re crowned king and the first person you tell decides to kill you without even giving you a chance. They’ve got it set in their mind that all kings are evil and need to be eliminated because no matter what good their power can bring, sooner or later it would just go to their head and they’d become a self absorbed tyrant. That’s what people born with latent magic face. You can’t tell me that’s just.”

Hating himself a little, Arthur sighed in not quite agreement. “On principle no. But I’ve spent my whole life seeing the death and destruction magic brings.”

“And I’ve spent my whole life seeing the good it can do. I’ve seen it save your life!” 

Arthur stared hard at him trying to ignore the warning ringing in his mind. At last he seized the memory being alluded to. “You’re talking about your friend Will,” he stated, relief flooding his voice.

Releasing the breath he appeared to have been holding Merlin didn’t correct him, although he was quiet for a heartbeat too long. Something suspiciously like disappointment flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Arthur could ask about it.

“I was always there when Will needed me,” Merlin finally answered and Arthur heard nothing but truth in the words. It made the next ones slightly easier to stomach. “No matter the risk, no matter what people said about him. I didn’t do that with Morgana. I let my fear of living in Camelot get in the way and I’ve spent the last year hating myself for it. Don’t make my mistake,” he pleaded, “at least listen to her! You can’t truly think she’s evil, if you did you would have gone to your father without hesitation.”

Arthur can’t argue with Merlin on that although he doesn’t want to tell him keeping it a secret is already starting to weigh on him.

“Her magic isn’t going to go away,” his servant was insisting.” Sooner or later you’re going to have to make a choice. Kill her or help her. She will never trust your father to understand what she needs. I’m sorry but it’s true. You though…,” Merlin had that look on his face that always made Arthur feel the other man could see straight through him, “she might learn to trust you. And if she does, if she can believe you are willing to give her a future where she doesn’t have to live in fear, she might be willing to wait. To work with you not someone who believes the death and destruction bit is the only way. She could let go of her hate. Provided you have the courage to let go of yours.”

Arthur shook his head exasperatedly. Did he really not get it? “You’re asking me to accept  _ magic _ , Merlin. Magic that caused the death of so many people tonight.”

“I’m asking you to accept that  _ she _ has magic and at one point believed as I do. That it can and should be used for  _ good _ . She didn’t do that today, I’m the first to admit that. She made the wrong choice and a lot of innocent people have suffered for it. But tell me sire, if there wasn’t a time in your past when you did the same? When you thought you were doing the right thing but it spiraled out of your control, and the next thing you knew you were condoning something that sickened you, but you had no way to change things and no one to help you.”

Years old pain and shame cut through Arthur in that moment and he barely turns away in time hide the worst of his emotions. There’s no way Merlin could possibly know just how true that statement was, and Arthur can’t tell him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell him. Minutes pass as he takes several deep breaths, trying desperately to calm his racing heart and push back the screams that will haunt him till the day he dies.

Merlin’s eyes are full of regret and concern when he finally turns around but when the prince shoots him a look that clearly says “don’t ask” he obeys. Really he should have seen enough to let him know his point is well and truly understood. Something about his servant's demeanor implied he was fighting guilt of his own, but Arthur’s own feelings are too raw to try to contemplate someone else’s. Instead he shudders slightly as Merlin steps closer - not trying to touch him, if he knows what’s good for him he wouldn’t dare - but close enough to where his softened tone is clearly audible.

“You may not ever expect people to forget what happened because of that action - or inaction - but would you want someone to say that all the good you’ve ever done and all the good you could do in the future are no longer valid because of it?” The prince doesn’t answer, because really what can he say? But Merlin knows him well enough to know he’s listening, and his next words are the strangest mix of pleading and commanding that Arthur’s ever heard. “I don’t know what will come of it, but you’ve known her for too long and put way too much effort into finding her to let it end like this. Just talk to her, and see where things go from there. One step at a time. Magic or not, isn’t she worth that much?”

A thousand arguments and practically every word of his upbringing are screaming at him to say no. Still Arthur finds himself nodding.

“I’ll try.” Is all he can say, and whether it’s strength or weakness that fuels the agreement he really doesn’t want to know.

But Merlin gave him a small smile full of relief and pride, so maybe he’d made the right choice. Only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn’t like this ending there will probably be at least a part three but again it will be a bit before that goes up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Morgana handle hearing the last thing she expected Arthur to say? Can she handle facing the truth about what she’s really done to Camelot?

Arthur was due to visit her tonight or so the guard outside her door, ostensibly there for her protection, informed her. For the first time in a week. Morgana couldn’t help but wonder why.

He’d come once before but hadn’t stayed for more than a minute or two. His actions then had puzzled her greatly. He hadn’t immediately launched into an interrogation, nor had he pushed her to reveal the whereabouts of her still absent sister. If anything he showed up looking lost and sad and left looking more so. She had no idea what was going through his mind. But she knew if she didn’t hear from Morgause soon, she would soon become even further unnerved.  

The prince showed up just after she’d finished dinner, dismissing her attendant and ordering that no one disturb them. This time the desolated look had vanished, replaced with a determination that was almost enough to make her bend without even hearing his demands. Quickly she centered herself. If he wanted to start lecturing her than he could go ahead. She had more than enough counterarguments prepared.

A moment later though his gaze softened as if remembering something. “Merlin tells me you should be back to full strength any day now,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased with the fact. “I really was worried about you. We both were.”

For some reason the words caused a spark of warmth to blossom inside her. Rattled, she instinctively lashed out, hoping to catch him off guard long enough to recover her aloofness.

“Since when does Merlin show concern for my health?” she snapped. “He’s usually the one trying to damage it. Deliberately I might add. Has he mentioned poison to you by any chance?”

Rather than confusion or outrage, the sad look from the previous visit returned. Along with a tiny bit of...was that disappointment?

“He’s done more than mention it,” Arthur finally said. “He gave me the full story, before, during, and after. He was a little fuzzy on some of the details, mainly because he said only you know the truth of your motivations, but I know enough to be sure as to his.”

“And what, pray tell, has this knowledge motivated you to do on my behalf?” She asked with false sweetness.

“Its motivated me to just get through locking him in a cell,” was his answer. Another one that caught her by surprise, although this time the emotion it elicited was nothing short of elation. Her joy was short lived however when, seeing her about to speak, he threw up a warning hand. 

“That is as far as his punishment is going to go.”

She blinked at him, smile fading. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, controlling herself with an effort.

“You heard me. This is something I am dealing with myself. I will not be informing my father of what happened and neither will you.”

This time there was no containing her surging rage. “How can you keep such a thing a secret?!”

“For the same reason I’ve kept your actions a secret.”

“He tried to kill me! I thought he was my friend.” Even after all this time that still stung.

“And he thought you were his.” Arthur said coldly. “You both betrayed each other! The only difference is you didn’t act to save your home. You tried to kill him because you wanted too. The same as you wanted to bring destruction on your home and the people who loved you. And you know what?” he added before she could argue, “he thinks he can forgive you for that. I’m not so sure. And your fate is resting in my hands. Face it, you need him.”

She winced at the acid in his tone but gave a humorless laugh. “Why?”

The anger on Arthur’s face morphed into sadness. “Because as much as I love you Morgana, I don’t really understand. I don’t understand some of the choices you’ve made. The reasons behind them to a point I do, but why you felt they were your only option I don’t.”

Ignoring her feelings for Merlin for a moment, she seized onto the first part of what he said. “You say you love me but you did nothing but dismiss and belittle me whenever I tried to help you. You never aided me in defending innocent people. You would stand idly by and watch as those who have done no harm to those around them are slaughtered! Worse you contribute to the carnage. All to get a pat on the back from a man whose driven by nothing but guilt at being the cause of his wife’s death.”

“Leave my mother out of this!” he snapped, face twisting in an anger that rose to match hers. Feeling an odd combination of guilt and satisfaction she wisely switched tactics.

“You say I turned my back on my home. What exactly should endear me to this place? A home where absolutely no one bothered to help me? No wait, I take that back. The druids helped a little. They would have allowed me to live happily and peaceably with them. But no. Arthur the great magic conquering hero had to come marching in, butchering a bunch of innocents who didn’t even try to fight back.”

“We believed you’d been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped?” she snorted. “They were  _ druids _ Arthur! They spend their lives trying to  _ avoid _ Uther’s attention. Only to turn around and deliberately provoke him? If ever there was ever an opportunity for you to use your head to assess a situation that would have been it. But no. Your father’s single-minded, irrational hatred reared up and once again you followed him blindly. No amount of professed love will earn my forgiveness for those deaths you so brazenly ordered.”

Arthur’s shoulders sagged and he stared at his feet for a long moment before saying the very last thing she expected. “You’re right.”

“I beg your pardon?” she repeated.

“I said you’re right Morgana. My lack of proper information is no excuse. I acted unjustly and if another person behaved as I did I would see them as every bit as reprehensible as you do. By the way,” he reached the pocket of his jacket, “I thought you might want to see this.”  

Stepping close he handed her a sheet of paper which she unfolded cautiously. Starting from the top of the page down to the very bottom were three columns worth of names, packed so tightly she could barely read them all.

“What is this?” she asked, although the sinking feeling in her stomach gave her the answer. Arthur just confirmed it.

“A list of those dead in the attack. The first column is knights and castle guards. The other two are those from the lower town. Civilians. Women, children. Read it, you knew some of them, I know you did.” He held her gaze, silently daring her. “Read it!”

“NO!”

The cry tore from her throat as she threw the paper back at him. He caught it and pushed it toward her once again, grabbing her wrist when she took a swing his direction. Easily overpowered, she found herself shoved down into her seat, the situation invoking all the mortification of her 8 year old self being brought up short at her the sight of father’s disappointed face.

“You dare scorn me for the consequences of my blind belief in someone, when you have brought the same terror and destruction upon those who looked up to you. Who counted on you to have their best interests at heart.” Letting go he took a step back, looking at her with such disbelief that, to her annoyance, the feelings of shame intensified. “My god Morgana, do you not know how much they worship you? Half of them would prefer to see you be Camelot’s next ruler rather than me. And you turned your back on them. You let your hatred of two, maybe three people lead you to side with a woman who would burn an entire kingdom for revenge on one man.”

“I..I..” A thousand curses sprang to her mind but no answer. Any chance she had to get her tongue working was quashed by arms suddenly wrapping themselves around her.

“We can find a better way.” He murmured. “We both can.”

Pulling away she only managed to stare confusedly down at him. His blue eyes bored into hers, with an earnestness that she knew he couldn’t fake. “I don’t understand,” she finally managed to say.

“Neither do I,” he answered. Honestly, every time she thought she couldn’t be surprised any more... “I don’t understand magic, I don’t understand where this all went so wrong, and I don’t understand just how in the world I’m supposed to make it right. But I want to make it right.”

He reached for her hand and she let him take it, not daring to ask what he meant. He answered anyway. “I do understand why you never trusted me with this, and you have to know that right now I don’t trust you. It’s going to take a lot to change that. But other people shouldn’t be allowed to suffer while we decide whether or not it’s worth changing.

“I can’t fight for magic directly,” he added, “not yet.” At her sour look his voice took on a exasperated edge. “You can’t expect me to just give up everything I’ve ever believed in the blink of an eye. But if you’d let me finish, I’d say that I can fight against injustice. Something that I clearly didn’t know affected more people with magic than those without it. That is something we can fix.”

She snorted. “Just the two of us can undo all the misery Uther’s reign has brought on those least deserving of his wrath?”

He shook his head, neatly avoiding the accusation in her words. “I’m sure there will be others who’ll be more than willing to aid us. Guinevere helped hide the druid boy didn’t she? She’d do anything if it meant you wouldn’t feel alone.”

Some tension eased from her shoulders at that reminder. Her maid had always tried to help with her nightmares, sitting up with her for hours, and trying to encourage her to talk about them. Or just letting Morgana cling to her until she stopped shaking. Of all those left behind while she was gone, Gwen was the only one she hadn’t been able to stop missing. Another twinge of guilt stirred at the thought that the battle could easily have left her as nothing but a name on that list.

“Also,” Arthur continued, “as much as it baffles me to have to admit it, we’re both going to have to rely on Merlin if we want to come to an understanding.”

Standing up, he caught her dubious, slightly vindictive look. “I know you don’t believe me but I suggest that, before you do anything all three of us regret, you remember that a big reason why you are not the one in the dungeons is because he begged me to talk to you first.” He gestured to the list of names laying on the floor beside her. “They deserve restitution for their lives being stolen away. He helped me realize I don’t want you to be the one to pay it. I doubt that’s the limit of his help.”

“What help is a servant locked in a dungeon?”

“Oh, as to that, I’m letting him out in the morning.”

She threw up her hands in disbelief. “Just like that? You hold what I did against me, and yet forgive him without resentment. Why?”

“Because the wrongs don’t equal Morgana. If you hadn’t been the one injured by his actions you would see that. And because he freely admitted his wrong to me, and has shown every sign of true remorse for it. He’s made no excuses for what he did beyond what explanation demanded, and he’s taken his punishment without protest.

“Some punishment,” she snorted.

Arthur gave another one of those sad, thoughtful looks that mystified her more and more. When he spoke he sounded more hesitant than she’d ever heard him. “It’s more a show of trust. On my part and his.”

“What do you mean?”

Arthur gave a ‘do I have to spell out everything’ sigh. “I mean, you know where he is, and you know where I will not be for several more hours. We’re trusting you not to take advantage of that fact.”  

“Trusting I won’t see to it he never leaves that cell?” she translated.

“Precisely.”

“And just what makes you so confidant I won’t do just that?

For the first time in their conversation Arthur’s expression became decidedly shifty. A minute or two passed before he answered and when he did it was with an indefinable emotion in his voice.

“Two reasons,” he said. “The first I’ve explained before, namely you kill him, you kill your only ally. I want to be here for you, and I hope one day I’ll be able to accept that you’ll use your magic for the people’s benefit instead of their destruction. But so far you’ve done nothing to prove that’s possible. You need someone who believes in you solely for the sake of who you used to be. And second, you saw what happened the last time you try to kill him. He was trapped by Morgause’ magic, and incapacitated by a Serket sting. And yet here he is, alive and well, and only slightly more annoying for the experience.”

Despite herself Morgana felt a faint twitch in the corner of her mouth. Arthur’s next words replaced it with a chill.

“He’s not defenseless, and he’s not alone. You would do well to remember that in the future.”

With that thought Arthur made his exit, leaving her sitting alone with only the crackle of the fireplace and way, way, too much to think about.

Not for the first time she wished Morgause would get in touch with her. It would seem there was far more to some members of her former adopted family then met the eye, and the abrupt change in direction was putting some of her most ironclad convictions in doubt.

Hoping to soothe her restlessness she stood and began slowly pacing the room, turning over various arguments in her mind.

The first and most obvious one was that this was all some kind of trick. That he was just pledging to fight his father’s oppression to trick her into getting caught by the king. Her sister would certainly think so. But Morgana had grown up with Arthur. As much as he was practiced at hiding emotions, he was incapable of showing false ones. He had a distinct aversion to lying or even bending the truth in order to get what he wanted. She could only conclude then that he’d meant every word he said.

Could she trust then, that his plans in aiding magic users would succeed? That she really couldn’t say. Surely even if she did agree to work with him she’d have to be on guard every day to see to it he didn’t back out at the last minute, or be grossly overcautious in his attempts to make a difference. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t put his all into the parts that he was willing to do. Would it be enough? At this point though, she simply didn’t have enough to go on in that direction.

Would she be able to afford to wait and try to get more information? As to that she was essentially trapped in the castle. He may not plan on outing her, but Arthur had made it clear she was no longer the same trusted ward she had been before she left. He had full authority to have her watched at all hours, and had no doubt thought of many excuses to legitimize such actions should she complain to the king. So really it was a choice between spending her days being forced into the role of compliant lady and waiting desperately for a rescue. Or being forced into the compliant role and still being able to work behind Uther’s back.

For the first option, it had taken months for her sister to formulate this attack on Camelot. It would take at least that long to come up with another, and she’d have the added complication of Arthur as well as Merlin (‘don’t think about him’ ) knowing she had a conspirator in the castle. One she would have a difficult time getting to.

Not to mention the thought of playing the helpless victim made Morgana want to vomit. At least working with Arthur she’d be doing  _ something _ , however much it wouldn’t be enough. Would she not be a fool to turn down the chance? Would it be worth the risk?

Morgause voice in her mind suggested that if Arthur decided to turn on her after all she was in the perfect position to kill him. But that thought made her stomach roll. There had been enough death already.

As if on cue her foot crunched against something on the floor. Glancing down she saw the list of names still lying half-crumpled on the floor. Unable to stop herself she bent and picked it up.

Tears flooded unbidden to her eyes as she looked at it. Arthur was right, she did recognize a vast majority of the names. Worse she could remember the way some of them had smiled and laughed whenever she was around, as if her very presence was the only thing needed to brighten their day. They never knew how much it was she who had needed their appreciation, not the other way around. And now they never would.

Crumbling the paper in her fist she hurled it toward the fireplace. Naturally her toss missed the flame and the paper ball sat mocking her as sobs began wracking her frame.

As desperately as she tried to absolve herself, to say the deaths were the fault of Cenred or even Uther, she couldn’t deny how blind she’d been to follow Morgause’s plans without question. Surely she could have done more, could have come up with a way to avoid innocent people getting hurt.

But then no, no she wouldn’t have. Morgause had a ruthless streak. Morgana had seen it once or twice in the year they had spent together. She might say the loss of life was regrettable but she would also claim it necessary, same as Uther often did. 

A shudder of a different kind passed through her at the thought. If Arthur hadn’t come to with her this would she one day have thought the same? Would she one day revel in killing people who’d never harmed her simply because they were in the way of what she wanted? The idea was worse than any nightmare she’d ever suffered.  

Shaky and exhausted she wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for a month. But the names now embedded in her mind told her that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Following the way Uther and her sister did things would only continue to lead to this sort of outcome. She knew that now. Would Arthur’s be any different? If there was even a chance it would...it was no use wondering. She would have to wait and find out. All the same she rather thought it might.

Arthur had always been a question mark. His attempts to keep loyal to both his father and his friends had made him inconsistent at best, unreliable at worst. He hesitated to commit to things. But he’d come to her of his own volition, knowing she had the power to give him a push if he slacked off, and to hurt him and those he loved if he betrayed her, and had made tentative promises to try to do right by those who were the epitome of all he’d been raised to hate. She had to admire his courage.

Maybe it was only fair to give him a chance. She certainly wouldn’t begrudge the saving of lives, and if it put Uther out well that was the least he deserved. And she thought guilty, eyes drawn once again to the unsinged paper in her grate, it was the least she could do considering the blood on her hands.

Speaking of which, there was one more conversation that needed to happen before this could all be done with. Arthur had made it clear he was only giving her a chance because someone said he should. Someone who was now an even bigger question mark than the prince.

It was time she found out exactly what he had to say for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who may wonder: Arthur hasn’t been told about Merlin’s magic. Simply because it would be way too much for him to process at this point and Merlin cares for him too much to pile that on top of everything else. But he does know there is more to him than he previously thought, and considering the conversations about the Serkets and the poisoning, it’s feasible he could know about the dragon. The next chapter is from Merlin’s POV so I could work that in. Not the reveal itself but a mention of it. Would you want that? Or do you want me to leave it where Arthur has suspicions but knows nothing specific? Let me know in your comments.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana comes seeking answers and Merlin has to balance honesty over his desire to help her with honesty over the fact she dare not cross his king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this done but I wanted to give it a few days before I went back to edit/revise and then I was out of town without my laptop a few days more. :( But it’s done now and thank you so much to everyone for sticking with me on it. Every time I get a new comment or kudos I want to work that much harder to put out solid chapters that make you happy to read this story. Really hope you like the interaction between these two in this chapter. <3

* * *

 

Merlin shifted restlessly on the cell’s less than comfortable bench, stretching himself out as best he could. The movement rattled on the chain connecting his left arm to the wall and pulled a sigh from his lips. Arthur had been reluctant to add the restraint, but Merlin insisted it was important Morgana feel safe and in control. Now he was beginning to regret the decision.

_ “You sure you want to risk this?” The prince asked for at least the fifth time, as he’d finished securing his servant in place. He’d considerately attached the cuff over the sleeve of Merlin’s shirt, keeping the cold metal off his bare skin. Still the dark haired man couldn’t quite suppress a shiver as he heard the manacle snap shut. _

_ “I have every faith in you sire.” _

_ Arthur frowned at him and Merlin lowered his gaze. “I have to,” he said quietly. Glancing up through his eyelashes he added, “And you can’t pretend you’re not still a little bit angry with me.” _

_ Arthur mouth tightened a little but he didn’t contradict the assertion. Merlin waited while he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally giving up trying to voice whatever was going through his mind. Instead he gave Merlin’s arm a brief squeeze and moved to the cell door. “You have the back up?” he asked over his shoulder. _

_ Merlin patted the outside of his jacket, feeling a bulge in the inner pocket. “For all the good it will do.” _

_ Arthur watched him a moment longer then stepped out, locking the door behind him. “I’ll see you in the morning. You know what will happen if you don’t live. And I’ll never forgive you for putting me in that position.”     _

_ Merlin wanted to laugh at the idea that of course Arthur would blame all this on him, but accepted that is was the other man’s way of trying not to admit he was worried about him. _

_ So he gave the expected nod of acknowledgement and tried not to admit his own fear as he watched Arthur disappear from view. _

* * *

 

That had been hours ago and the secret warlock was beginning to wonder if their plan wasn’t a half baked disaster. He trusted Arthur, and (so far) Arthur still trusted him, but there really was no telling how Morgana would react to her surrogate brother’s reasoning.

He had just settled his head back against the wall, hoping to at least catch a few minutes of rest when the sound of footsteps echoed in the stairwell. He sat up abruptly at that, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. They were too light to belong to Arthur and only one other person knew he was here. He waited, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat as the footsteps paused just out of sight at the bottom of the stairs.

At first he thought she was checking for the guards (Arthur had dismissed them to the floor below) or else was trying to heighten his anxiety over the encounter (it was working) but when at last she showed herself it was with the attitude of one barely holding onto their own courage.

She looked, in a word, exhausted. Dark smudges under her eyes a sharp contrast to pale cheeks and red nose. If he squinted he could just tell that her eyes were red and slightly puffy as well. Had she been crying? The thought was both surprising and heartening. Arthur hadn’t told him his exact plan, but Merlin had seen him pocketing the list of those killed by Cenred’s army. He’d obviously had to use it. Merlin could only hope she’d gotten the point about who would really suffer if she continued seeking vengeance rather than peace.

At first Morgana hung well back from the cell as if unsure it provided enough of a barrier between them. When he turned so the light from the wall torches could fall on the chain keeping him tethered to the back wall she relaxed some, and moved close enough that at least he wouldn’t feel like he was shouting if he wanted to speak to her.

Once up close, she stared at him with what he assumed was supposed to be cold disdain, but he could see an anxious tension in the line of her shoulders and the press of her lips. In the way her arms were crossed across her chest.

Her fear pained him but is was also something of a surprise. The Morgana he’d witnessed clashing with Arthur in the tunnels wasn’t one he would have expected to be afraid of someone who, by all appearances, she had the upper hand over in several ways. He quietly filed the information away for contemplation later. Perhaps she wasn’t as twisted as he feared her to be.

The longer the silence dragged on the more oppressive it became. He made no effort to break it however. Partially because he knew her leading the conversation would be a good way to judge where her head was truly at, and partially because he had no idea what to say. What did one say to someone who used to be a friend, and who you’d give almost anything to have as a friend once again, but who first you had to make sure wasn’t going to stab the people who were still your friends in the back at the first opportunity?

“I want you to answer one question,” she finally said. “Why are you trying to help me?”

That was not what he expected her to say, and it took him a moment or two to find a response that she wouldn’t immediately scorn. He finally settled on, “Because once upon a time we believed the same thing.”

Not the most informative answer but it was an honest one. Something she seemed to pick up on. Frowning she asked, “Did we not believe the same when you poisoned me?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, did we?” Instead of the expected flare of temper, he caught her hiding a flinch.

“When had I given you cause to decide I was your enemy?” she asked, and oh did that hurt in her voice eat at him. Still he steeled himself to say the next words.

“Enemy? Never. But there was more than enough times you willingly proved yourself a danger.”

She arched a dark brow. “How so?”

Looking her in the eye, he lowered his voice so errant listeners (should there be any) wouldn’t be able to hear. “I know you’re the one who stole the crystal of Neahtid. Arthur may blame his keys being swiped on an unlocked door but he is wrong. You took them. And you were the one who gave the crystal to Alvarr. A man who wanted nothing less than to manipulate a young boy into taking hold of a power that would destroy far more than just him.”

“He was fighting for his people. You have to-”

“Have to what?” He questioned. She didn’t try to continue. “He was a selfish and twisted individual, and however charming he may have come across, his intentions were evil. You were someone he could use to get what he wanted. Same way Tauren did. Yes, I know about your deal with him too. Really Morgause is just the latest in a long line of self-absorbed egomaniacs who saw you as an instrument of Camelot’s destruction. And as long as they promised Uther would be among the casualties, you were happy to go along with them.”

That got a rise out of her.“If you really cared about those with magic you wouldn’t object to that! You honestly want Uther to live?”

He shook his head. “I want  _ peace _ . For  _ everyone _ involved. I want Arthur to understand that magic can be a force for good. That will never happen if all he sees it do is destroy. If Uther is killed by magic, Arthur will never accept it.”

“Do you really think he will in any case?” she asked, but it sounded more worried than pessimistic.

“I think it’s possible. You must too, or else you wouldn’t be here. Given enough time, I have no doubt he’ll be able to make Camelot a haven for  _ all _ peoples, regardless on their beliefs.”

“And until then? How many more will die while you sit around and do nothing, waiting for Arthur to become king? How much more blood can you stand to have on your hands?”

_ ‘Fine words coming from the woman who flagrantly raised an army against her home.’ _ He made no effort to hide the bite in his next words. “I never said I wasn’t going to do anything. And while we’re on the subject, how many have died in the years since you’ve learned how to act behind Uther’s back?

“We’ve already established you can get a hold of Arthur’s keys without anyone but an insignificant servant such as myself being the wiser. And that you can then slip down to the dungeons, knock out the guards, and pass said keys off to murderous sorcerers that have yet to be heard from again.

“All these years you had friends - and not like Arthur did, I mean people who actually liked you for you. You had power, there were those who would move heaven and earth to satisfy your every caprice, if you only put it to them appealingly. You even had sleeping draughts. Between you and me, with how lackadaisical they get down here, an intelligent ogre could slip in and out unobserved. Why was there only one man who would prompt you to use your every advantage to spare his life?”

The look of devastation on her face softened his voice, and he stepped as close to her as his restraint would allow him too. She didn’t move away. “I’ll tell you why. Because no one can do it alone.”

He continued before she had a chance to respond. “I was unfair to you just now. I remember what you tried to do for Mordred, and what you suffered when you got caught. But that rather proves my point. One of us alone failed. The four of us together got him out. This fight is too big to do alone. If we have any chance to succeed without the deaths of those who are simply too afraid to go against orders, than none of us can afford to take matters into our own hands. We have to…, if not trust each other, than at least be willing to not put each other in harm’s way by acting without thinking.”

“Like you did?”

He’d seen it coming but the jibe still killed him a little inside. Blinking back tears he barely managed to keep his voice steady. “You’re not the only one who’s hasn’t always trusted the right people. But I stand by my decision.”

If Arthur had condemned him for it, perhaps it would be a different story. But while the prince was angry he hadn’t been consulted, he had eventually acknowledged the necessity of the action, and the subsequent secrecy over it. Not that he hadn’t threatened some viciously unpleasant consequences should Merlin ever do something like that again. Morgana wasn’t the only one being forced to reconsider playing the lone hand.

“This way won’t save everyone,” Morgana pointed out, apparently having decided the original topic was safer than responding to his comment. Privately Merlin agreed. 

“Did your undead army save anyone?” he asked. Okay maybe not that much safer if her shudder was any indication.

He forced himself to stay quiet as she pondered her next words. Arthur would have be impressed, he thought idly. For all the times he’d been told it was impossible for him to not talk people’s ears off, Merlin believed he was doing a pretty good job of only saying what needed to be said.

Eventually Morgana nodded as if coming to a decision. “If I do this,” she said and for the first time he saw the barest glimpse of the eager, open-hearted young women she had been, “if I were to choose side Arthur’s side, what would your attitude be about me and my magic?”

This time he didn’t hesitate. “I would defend you in every way I could. Just like I would anyone else like you.”  _ Like us.  _ But even her seemingly repentant demeanor couldn’t force that little revelation passed his lips.

Giving him a level look she pressed. “And if I didn’t?”

There it was, a repeat of the choice he’d never wanted to make. To have to deem one person as being more worthy of his loyalty than another... But it wasn’t a choice he could avoid was it? He’d done it once, and so far had seen nothing worth changing his answer for. And given the slightly broken look on her face, she knew it too. He needed to say so though, he owed her that much.

“Arthur’s my king.” Despite all other chaos in his life, that was one certainty he could cling to. “Always has been, always will be. If it was him or you, if it was him or anyone. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you. But he comes first.”

“I see.”

“I wish it could be different…”

To his surprise she shook her head. “Don’t. You shouldn’t apologize for your convictions. Regrets are rather meaningless now. At least you’re finally up front about where I stand with you. Behind Arthur.” There was pain in her eyes, and more than a little resentment. But a flicker of respect was there too. Small but solid. Now to see what she would do with it.

“Regrets are never meaningless,” he told her. “Sometimes there is no right answer. Sometimes we can’t avoid repeating mistakes. But as long as that pain is there, well... it reminds us to  always try harder the next time.”

Her expression turned anxious. “What if Arthur decides he can’t do it? What if he turns on me, on all of us. Don’t think you’re past loyalty will spare you if Uther discovers you’re on the side of magic users.”

“That’s been a fear I’ve lived with from the day I stepped foot in Camelot. Actually you could say it’s a fear I’ve had my entire life.” He smiled a little as the full truth of that statement escaped her. “But Arthur won’t turn on us. You know how much his knightly honor means to him. If he’s given his word on something, he’ll stick by it. I believe that with all my being. And I will help him do the best he can with the resources he has available.”

Morgana sighed wistfully at that. “I wish I could say I had someone that devoted to me,” she murmured, more to herself than him, Merlin thought. Before he could say anything she added, “But...I guess I don’t know if I could have that much devotion to someone else either. To put that much hope in one person…,” she shook her head, “I don’t know if I have enough courage. I don’t know how you do.”

“You do. You have the courage to do anything.” He’d believed that from the first argument he’d witnessed between her and the king all those years ago.

“I can’t turn back time.”

He laughed sadly. “If any of us had the power to do that, time would never go forward. There would always something we would want to do differently.”

“I agree.” Whatever else she might have said was cut off by an unladylike yawn that she didn’t even bother to hide. 

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation later?” he offered tentatively.

“I’m fi-” her retort was cut off by another yawn. “Very well. But I’m only leaving because I know what I wanted too. Not because you suggested it.”

He hid a smile. “Of course. May I wish you a good night my lady?”

She snorted. “You could but it’s not likely to happen. Although,” she glanced around the cell, “it will probably be better than your’s.” With a shrug, and a not nearly as cruel as she had been giving smirk, she retreated back up the stairs, leaving him to face the remainder of the cold night alone.  

* * *

 

She was right of course.

Even without a library’s worth of thoughts running loose in his mind, his accommodations would not have made for a pleasant rest. As it was he spent the darkest hours in the muddled headed state both Arthur, and occasionally Gaius, claimed he lived in. Past regrets, present expectations, and future hopes, all warred for dominance and he was almost glad he’d been tucked out of sight, because he was sure this state of mind would not leave him fit to be seen by anyone.    

Consciousness finally deserted him at some point of early dawn but the first rays of light that reached into the cell soon had it scampering back in the direction from which it came. He awakened to hear the clank of a door opening and the brush of someone’s hand loosening his wrist from the cuff.

Rolling over he found himself blinking blearily up at the curly head of Sir Leon. Signs of his sleepless night were obviously written all over his face given the way the other man was smiling sympathetically at him.

“Easy there,” the knight said by way of greeting. “The prince was on his way to collect you when he got called to an incident in the lower town.”

Curse the man but he would say the one thing that Merlin couldn’t just ignore in favor of going back to sleep. Forcing his weary arms to move, he shakily pushed himself upright. “Does he meed ne - need me?” he asked.

Leon immediately shook his head, not bothering to hide his amusement. Had he been able to form a coherent sentence Merlin would have protested the lack of humour about the situation. “Everything’s under control. I’m under orders to release you and,” lowering his voice so the guards - now back in their usual positions - couldn’t hear, he added, “I thought I’d take the chance to ask: is everything alright?”

Merlin gave him a slow blink which Leon took to mean ‘please explain’.

“Arthur specifically said to see to it you made it back to your room in one piece. That you ate, and that no one bothered you until he made it back. He’s been on edge for days now and normally I wouldn’t question, but…”

For once Merlin felt sympathy for Arthur and his constant barking for him to be quiet when the prince was trying to concentrate. He was barely awake and Leon wanted him to explain Arthur’s behavior? Did everyone in Camelot have the worst possible timing?

“Arthur-” his voice cracked, and he forced a cough from his dry throat. “Arthur’s fine. He’s just trying to find out some snuff- er, stuff.” Merlin sighed and the knight regained his composure.

“I’m sorry I asked. Of course, He’ll explain when he’s ready. Now come on, we better get you home before you pass out.”

The trip back to Gaius chambers was a blur with Leon keeping a hand on his elbow the entire time. Merlin had thought that a bit unnecessary until he’d tried two steps on his own and had nearly fallen flat on his face.

Once they reached their destination he’d stumbled over to the table and shoved a roll in his mouth, more to shut up Sir Leon than his stomach. He’d further confused the poor knight by handing him a key that looked very much like the one hanging from the man’s own belt, with the request it be given back to Arthur who’d know what to do with it, before he’d moved into his room and collapsed face first onto his bed.

He was fast asleep when Arthur came to collect him some hours later and so didn’t witness the hushed conversation between the prince and Gaius. Didn’t hear his mentor’s worried confession that Merlin was gone all night and he had no idea where he was. Didn’t see Arthur squirm slightly before reassuring the old man that his ward was fine, and (reluctantly) stating that he didn’t need him that day after all. 

But he wouldn’t have cared much if he had. Some things just couldn’t compare with a deep dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 should be quicker in coming - I hope. I have a chunk of it done but it's rapidly becoming a monster. Neither Merlin nor Arthur wants to shut up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Now that one immediate crisis has been averted, Arthur has a few questions for his servant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a complete reveal here, I’ll warn you but...well you’ll see. Also this is about 2k words longer than the last chapter! :) Thank you to everyone who commented/left kudos since my last update. And thank you to everyone who gave suggestions so far. Some of them make an appearance in this chapter (I know I have Talis_Borne to thank for some of Arthur's thought process) so if you recognize something as your idea, thank you and give yourself a pat on the back. Now on with story...

An hour without Merlin was a relief. An afternoon without him, depending on what needed to be done, could be an inconvenience but was manageable. A day and a half was downright inconsiderate.

Arthur, who thought he’d live for peace and quiet, had now had far too much of it. Quiet made him think, and thoughts inevitably lead to questions. And when the only person who could answer those questions was dead to world in his room with a guard dog in the form of a disapproving physician...well, disturbing him put Arthur at great risk of ending up a guinea pig for any new medicine the old man invented.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t try to get to Merlin anyway - twice.

The first time Gaius had politely shooed him off. Although not without - and Arthur could have kicked himself for not realizing this would happen - expressing concern about his ward’s disappearance. Now that he thought about it, Gaius seemed worried for Merlin often. If what Arthur was beginning to suspect was true, there was very good reason for that.

The physicians worry, and the odd looks some of the knights - well Leon anyway - were starting to throw his way were a reminder that the decisions made between him, Merlin, and Morgana, were going to ripple across other lives - and fast. Trouble was, for all his training in planning and strategy, Arthur was uncomfortably aware that he could only guess at the repercussions of those decisions the first few times they were made. He could only hope most people wouldn’t arbitrarily react according to what they perceived was happening without giving him a chance to explain. Or to make Merlin explain.

Speaking of that idiot - he slipped into Arthur’s chambers sans knocking only to stop short at the sight of the prince already awake and waiting for him.

“You’re dressed.”

Arthur sighed. “I think we have this conversation about once a month Merlin. I am capable of looking after myself every now and then. I have to when my servant decides he wants to laze about all day.”

“You accused me of that yesterday. Is looking after yourself overtaxing your memory?”

The second time Arthur hadn’t been able to resist dropping by Gaius chambers, he’d managed to time it for when the physician was out. That had let him get to Merlin who, albeit grumpy at being awakened, had quickly and concisely told him of the conversation he’d had with Morgana. Arthur had then given the gist of his in return. A comparison of the two had left them optimistic on the whole, but only time - and opportunity - would tell if she would try to betray Camelot again. They would have to be patient, something neither was happy about.

Arthur ignored the insult as Merlin finished laying out breakfast and moved on to sorting the prince’s discarded clothes.

“What’s Morgana doing this morning?” he asked.

“I passed Gwen in the hallway just now, she said the two of them were going to take a walk around the lower town. Gaius is allowing it, but she’s under strict orders to just stay out long enough for Morgana to get some sun and fresh air. They’ll be back before lunch.”

Arthur nodded, picking absently at his breakfast. As good as it looked he had no appetite. “Good. It’ll be helpful for her to see how the people are coping. And the patrols haven’t been relaxed yet. She’ll be quite safe.” _‘And so will everyone else.’_ But he didn’t need to add that. He blew out a breath, bracing himself. “Why don’t we get back to you then?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You.” Giving up on the food, he stood and came around the desk next to Merlin. The other man shuffled to the side to stay at arm’s length from him. “Over the last few days you’ve said several things that at the time didn’t register as important. But if there is one advantage of having a day and a half with a servant who knows how to be invisible, it’s that your work isn’t constantly interrupted. And when you can actually finish all you have to get done in a timely fashion, things that have been tucked to the back of your mind have opportunity to work their way back to your active memory.”

“Such as?”

“Serkets.” He gave the word the same blunt inflection Merlin had two weeks ago. Had it really only been two weeks?

“Serkets?” Merlin asked. He would have succeeded in selling the only casually interested attitude if it weren’t for the flicker of unease in his eyes. Which there could be any number of reasons for, Arthur reminded himself. If he didn’t want Merlin clamming up - or worse, running away - he was going to have to be extra careful with his approach.

Whatever was hiding behind those walls had better be worth it.

Keeping his voice low and steady, the way he would around a shy horse, the prince continued, “It’s all right, I’m not going to blame you for something beyond your control. I just want answers.” The look Merlin gave him was six kinds of intense and Arthur almost had to turn away. “I know Camelot’s lands inside and out. Night patrols don’t ever enter the Darkling Woods without the utmost precautions being taken. Because they know there is no way to survive a Serket attack like the one you had. Not without help.”

Merlin was quiet for a long minute, giving off no clue what he was thinking. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked.

“Just tell me how you were healed.” The way his servant paled, colored, then immediately tried to evade the question, was all the confirmation Arthur needed that something unusual - and more than likely illegal - had happened.

“What makes you think I know what happened? How do you know I didn’t fall unconscious and wake up healed and on the road back?”

“Because if you’re going to risk your life healing someone with magic you’re not going to then turn around and leave the person you saved to fend for himself. Even if he was no longer in danger of dying.”

“And you would know this how?”

Interesting. Here Arthur thought him saying the word magic first would be all the reassurance Merlin would need. He wouldn’t have to be the one to admit anything, only confirm the supposition. Antagonism was new for him though, and Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if it was covering more than just fear.

“I’m not going to hunt them down,” he promised. “You don’t even have to give me the person’s name. I just want to know which druid camp I need to discreetly shield from investigation next time something happens.”

There was clearly a barb on the tip of Merlin’s tongue, most likely along the lines of ‘ _all of them_ ’, but at the last minute he swallowed it back, raising an eyebrow instead. “So you value my life enough to reward someone who saved it?”

“No. It’s not a reward. And I certainly wouldn’t go as far as to say your life is valuable to me.” Arthur replied.

A sly smile flitted across Merlin’s face. “How far would you go?”

Mentally kicking himself for not seeing that neat little trap he’d set himself up for, Arthur sputtered for a minute before recovering. “I don’t actively dislike you,” he said when Merlin refused to take his haughty sniff for an answer. “Happy now?”

“Mmmm, I’d be happier if I didn’t have to go wash your smelly socks but…” Merlin reached for the laundry basket but Arthur neatly stepped in between.

“Nice try, but evasion really isn’t your strong suit.”

Merlin blinked confusedly at that. “I rather thought it was.”

“Merlin if you don’t give me a straight answer, smelly socks are going to be the least of your worries.”

That earned him a glare, but eventually capitulation followed. “I wasn’t healed by a druid. I wasn’t healed by a sorcerer. Or a wizard, or a witch, or a warlock, or any other name for a magical person that you can think of. Is that clear enough for your pratness?” The look in Merlin’s eyes dared Arthur to get around that statement.

Not one to refuse even a silent challenge, he did just that. “Fine, it wasn’t a sorcerer. Doesn’t mean magic wasn’t necessary. Have some kind of lucky charm you keep on you?”

“Even you can’t think I’m that stupid.”

“No, you’re right. Not to mention you’ve been arrested too many times. If nothing else the witchfinder would have found it.”

“Oh thanks, that’s absolutely the subject to bring up when you’re trying to get me to admit to working with a magic user!”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I never said you were working with them. You know I’ve never actually believed you to be a traitor.”

Merlin’s darkened expression immediately made it clear that was the wrong thing to say. “But you believed Gaius was, didn’t you? You wouldn’t have done a single thing to stop his execution if Gwen hadn’t shamed you into it.”

The words would have been bad enough if he’d shouted them. But the whispered, almost growl like, tone coupled with the fact he spoke nothing but the plain, unavoidable truth, caused the prince’s stomach to churn with regret. It wasn’t a feeling he appreciated being pushed on him, and it took every ounce of self control he had not to lash back in self defense.

Miraculously the charged moment passed with no altercation, and the unspoken apologies exchanged in the silence gradually calmed both men. At last Arthur offered up the only other solution he could think of to his original question. However ridiculous he felt in saying it out loud.

“Unicorn?”

Merlin looked up from whatever it was he’d found interesting on the floor and glanced around the room.

“Are you hallucinating now?”

The tease dissolved the last of the tension and Arthur shoved him lightly in retaliation, inwardly pleased when it prompted an answering shove. “The unicorn we found wasn’t too far away from where you said you were attacked,” he said, by way of explanation. “It seemed to know you were fond of it. Was it what helped you?”

A faint smile lit the other man’s face and Arthur felt a swell of triumph. Then Merlin shook his dark head of hair and the victorious feeling turned sour. His shoulders dropped then, in a rather unprincely slump of defeat. Oddly, (though maybe not, this was Merlin), that did more to get cooperation than anything else he had tried.

“It wasn’t a unicorn,” Merlin told him, his voice soft with uncertainty. “But...you are getting warmer.”

* * *

 Arthur chewed on that statement over the next few hours after Merlin managed to escape his supervision. He’d all but admitted to a magical creature being the instrument of his rescue. How and what should be done about that were things to ponder. But Arthur settled on first finding out what creature it was. His knowledge of such things was limited, something that perhaps was a problem. Sooner or later he was going to encounter such a creature and not have time to run to Gaius for a way to defeat it, or to find out if he should defeat it.

Of course it was always possible Merlin knew more about the subject then he let on. In fact Arthur was almost convinced that he did. Now to find a way to prove that…

* * *

 “Are there fairies in Camelot?”

Merlin’s reaction to that not quite innocent inquiry was disturbing. He froze in the process of making Arthur’s bed, eyes wide, and gave a quick, involuntary shudder. “Yes,” he said, voice tight with tension. “And no.”

Arthur got the distinct impression that was all he was going to say on the subject. Which was fine. He’d answered the implied question at least.

“How about a satyr?” That got another negative, but a calmer one this time.

“Hippogryph?”

Merlin looked at him suspiciously. “You are making that up.”

“I am not.”

“Really? Where did you get the name from? For that matter, where are you getting any of these names from? I thought you weren’t taught about anything to do with magic. Aside from you know, that it’s unequivocally evil.” His tone made it clear how he felt about that statement, a fact Arthur tucked in a corner of his mind to try not to think about later.

“I wasn't,” he answered. “But there is plenty of information on the subject if you know where to look.”

“Where?” Merlin raised a doubting eyebrow although he looked far too interested for Arthur’s liking.

“Here and there. Places only those of sufficient rank are privy to.”

Merlin snorted at that, piling up the last of the pillows on top of the comforter. He then grabbed a polishing rag and informed the prince he would be in the armory, should whatever book Arthur had pilfered from the library yield any other likely candidates.

* * *

 “Got any more?” Merlin queried that evening when they returned to Arthur’s chambers after a long, tension filled dinner with Uther and Morgana.

“Several.” Arthur answered tugging off his formal jacket and tossing it on the floor at Merlin’s feet. “Basilisk, Chimera, Centaur, Manticore, and some sort of fish horse thing that I forget the name of.”

“Hippocampi?”

“Yes! Wait, that was it?!”

“No, it’s just the proper name for them. It would have been impossible for one of them to heal me. They only live in saltwater.”

“Oh.”

“Also are you reading the descriptions of these creatures or not? Because basilisks and chimeras are probably more deadly than the sekrets, and a centaur even it decided to be helpful, would likely be too drunk to be of any good.” He paused for a moment with a slight frown. “Not sure what a manticore is but I seriously doubt I would want to meet one.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He’d played this game all day and it’d gotten him nowhere. Time for plan B. “Well I suppose that’s it then.”

Merlin laughed. “Don’t give up now, you have so many more choices.” When Arthur merely glared at him his smile faded and he cocked his head curiously. “You’re really done?”

“I’m done guessing.” Arthur paused just long enough to see Merlin’s shoulders relax slightly, before moving to his wardrobe and picking up the two bags he’d packed earlier while Merlin was busy running pointless errands to try to avoid him. He held one out to his servant. “Take this.”

“What for?”

“If you won’t tell me what creature it was, I’m just going to have to go find it for myself. You’re coming along may or may not be smart but I’m tired of your disappearing acts. Better if I keep you in sight. Let’s go.”

“What, now?”

“Why not? Any later and their won’t be even a hint of light left. It’s not likely to be easy to find as it is, I don’t want to have to depend on torches the whole time.”

“What makes you think you’ll find it at all?”

“What’s there to stop me?”

“What’s there to stop you?!” Merlin sputtered. “Now I know you’re thick. In case you’ve forgotten, the woods are crawling with Serkets!”

“All the more reason for our friendly beast to show itself. I don’t mean it any harm. And should I get stung, and it’s truly the benevolent creature you’ve been implying it is, it’s not going to let a wounded man die without trying to help.”

“It’s a magical creature Arthur. And you’re...you. What makes you think it’ll want to help?”

Trying to ignore the emotional sting those words caused, Arthur focused on the practical. “If it’s intelligent enough to recognize me, it’ll be intelligent to understand your telling it I’m not going to kill it. That I just want to know what potential friendly magical creatures exist.”

Merlin didn’t seem to know how to argue with that and, rather pleased with himself for leaving him tongue tied, Arthur turned to exit the room.

He was on the point of pushing the door open when a hand snatched his arm back. Glancing down he saw the white knuckle grip Merlin had on his sleeve. His head was deliberately turned away from Arthur but what little could be seen of his face was equally pale.

“I don’t know everything in the world Arthur,” he said, in one last desperate attempt to make him stay, Arthur thought, “but I know for a fact the d-creature won’t be there.”

“Why?” the prince countered unmercifully. He was getting to the bottom of this, and he was doing it tonight. “Did healing you kill it?”

“No, it’s not dead. Just... gone.” Merlin’s breath was coming quickly and Arthur could see actual sweat beading up on his forehead. A trendle of worry passed through him, temporarily overriding his irritation. Merlin was too busy having a mild panic to notice. “The creature... he… he only showed up because...I made him show up. I called for him.”

“You called for him?” Arthur repeated, worry now replaced with confusion. “You want to explain how it’s possible for you to summon a magical creature?”

Merlin backed away until he was leaning up against the desk. Wetting his lips, he breathed deeply for several minutes before he finally looked up at Arthur. “You said you wouldn’t judge me for something I can’t help.”

Now Arthur’s heart was picking up speed. “I remember,” he said carefully.

“I could call him because... because my father could call him. It was a role my father held, on his death it came to me. I had as much control over it as you have over being the next king.”

There were so many questions that sentence raised but for some reason the one that slipped out was an indigent, “You told me you didn’t know who you’re father was.”

“At the time that was true.”

“That was only a year ago, when did you find out about him?”

“When we needed his help.” Merlin answered, now infuriatingly calm.

“When we...that is incredibly unhelpful.”

“Fine, you want another hint, how’s this? I don’t cry over strangers.”

Arthur frowned, trying to recall the few occasions he’d seen Merlin cry. There was the unicorn’s death of course, but maybe he’d had a sense of what was coming as a result of it’s death. And now that he knew the story behind the day Morgana disappeared, the tears tracks on Merlin’s cheeks then made sense too. Of course, nether Morgana nor the unicorn could be Merlin’s father by any stretch of the imagination anyway. But who could?

Some of the knights he’d seen killed had been old enough, but surely Merlin would have said something if it’d been one of them. If he had proof he was a dead knight’s son - legitimate or not - Arthur would have seen to it he’d gotten some sort of provision. It wasn’t like many knights had families anyway. But they wouldn’t have had to seek out a knight to get their help. And Merlin had never been upset to the point of tears over any of their deaths. Not even when one of them died saving his life...oh please no.

Scenes flashed unbidden through Arthur’s mind: Merlin spending the journey out distracted and unusually quiet. His extreme determination to get their new acquaintance to cooperate, almost taking it personally when he’d refused. Relief beyond that of a concerned citizen when Balinor had turned up after all. The way he’d been clinging to the dead Dragonlord’s body after he’d died.

Then the more subtle signs that he’d seen but never thought about: Conversations that cut off when he’d drifted too close. The way the two had smiled at each that last night by the fire. The way Merlin’s cheerfulness had had a forced edge to it for days after the dragons defeat, and how he’d kept within arms reach of Gaius whenever possible.  

It all made sense. Terrible, honest, brutal sense. And he absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Not for the first time Arthur cursed the upbringing and position that forced him to remain stoic and practical in the face of tragedy. Surely no one else habitually said the worst possible thing when someone they were close to was dealing with a horrific loss. And a loss such as he was intimately familiar with.

Merlin’s face was etched with grief but there was also a gnawing guilt present. The kind that said if it wasn’t for him, his parent would still be alive. Arthur distinctly remembered the first day he had understood what it meant that his mother had died bringing him into the world. The number of nights he’d spent crying himself to sleep following that revelation was uncountable.

That thought was what finally forced his frozen limbs into action and he moved cautiously over to where Merlin was still slumped against the desk, arms wrapped tight in a self hug. Resting a gentle hand on his shoulder Arthur squeezed it lightly. It was a rather pathetic attempt at comfort really, but Merlin seemed to appreciate it. After a moment or two he blinked his eyes clear and gave his master a facsimile of a smile.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur managed softly.

Merlin sniffed and tried to smile again but didn’t otherwise respond.

Though he hated himself for taking advantage of his friend’s vulnerable moment Arthur had to ask, “When you say your father’s gift, you mean controlling the... dragon?”

The other man paled and gave a nervous nod.

“The dragon who’s still alive?”

Merlin nodded again, shrinking back from him just a little, before squaring his shoulders in anticipation of the prince’s wrath.

He was right to worry, as confused outrage was the first emotion that surfaced in Arthur’s brain. Fortunately for Merlin, he managed to tamp it down and stick to an ask first, strangle manservant second approach, rather than the reverse. Punishment for the lie could come later, right now he needed facts.

“So you’re a Dragonlord now?” Merlin nodded again, not looking at him. Grabbing the man’s chin, Arthur forced their eyes to meet. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. Father said it was a kinship of sorts. That the dragons can be made to obey their lord’s commands but that they should also be treated with respect. He didn’t exactly have time to explain the details of how it all worked.”

“He never want to kill the dragon did he? Did he ask you to let it go?”

Merlin shook his head, tears resurfacing. “His last words were telling me how to kill him. And I planned to, I did. As many times as he betrayed me it was nothing less than what he deserved. But I couldn’t.”  

Arthur sighed, dropping his hand. “Why?” It was all he could say just then.

“Because he’d also helped me. Not out of the goodness of his heart, I see that now. But that doesn’t change the fact I owe him your life several times over.” That made absolutely no sense, but before Arthur could comment Merlin continued. “And when I spoke to him that night I...I felt my father there with me. And I knew if I killed Kilgharrah, I would lose that connection - maybe forever.” He shook his head and met the prince’s eyes. “My father died in my arms after less than a day of acknowledging me as his son. What would you have done?”

Arthur looked away, rubbing his forehead as that question played over and over in his mind. He’d been prepared to kill his own father based on five minutes talk with an image of his mother. Who may or may not have really been his mother. That desperation to have any connection to an absent - and now deceased - parent, it was something he instinctively understood. Part of him wanted to drop the matter then and there. But he did have a kingdom to protect.

“Where is the dragon now Merlin?”

Merlin sniffed, wiping his eyes. “After he healed me, he brought me as far as the clearing where we faced off against him. Then he headed back toward the border.”

“Which border?”

“North, I think.”

“Will he be staying there?”

Merlin shook his head. “Not sure. I don’t babysit him, he’s free to go where he wants, so long as he stays out of Camelot. When I spared his life I told him it was his only chance. He had to leave, and if he tried to attack us again I would kill him. The night I was stung was the first time I’d seen him since then. He was rather peeved about it actually. I think he needs our connection as much as I do. Not that he’d ever admit it of course.”

The man was talking about a beast of death and destruction as casually a one would a relative rarely seen, and barely tolerated, but too necessary to cut out of one’s life altogether. The normality of it all was dumbfounding.  

“Even with your warning it could decide to turn on us at any time.” Arthur felt the need to point out.

Merlin gave him an exasperated look. “In case I wasn’t clear earlier, _he_ is under my control. He disobeys me on pain of death.”

“A powerful enough sorcerer could override your control.”

Again he got the sense of Merlin stopping himself right before letting a crucial piece of information slip. That was starting to get annoying. If Merlin couldn’t trust him by now what did that say about them? Arthur was scared of pondering that too closely. Fortunately what was said next was sufficiently distracting.

“A sorcerer could enchant your mother’s ring and use it to take control of you. Are you going to stop wearing it?”

Startled, Arthur looked down at the thick band encircling his finger. Almost no one he knew had any idea he’d claimed Ygraine’s ring as his own. How Merlin had figured it out was beyond him, Arthur certainly hadn’t said anything. The prince shook his head. There was validity to Merlin’s statement, to the connection he wanted, but the emotional turmoil it brought on was enough to have him argue back. “You’re talking about a ring, I’m talking about a dragon. How are they the same?”  
  
“It’s all you’ve got, He’s all I’ve got. How are they different?”

Now did that make sense or had his sense of reason just deserted him? Either way Arthur let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his hands across his face.

“And I’m just supposed to trust that he won’t attack Camelot?”

“You can trust that I won’t let him attack Camelot.”

Could he? Arthur knew he wanted to, and he wasn’t ashamed to say so but...

“But you think I’m an idiot,” was Merlin’s interpretation of the dragged out silence.

Arthur laughed hollowly. “I think you do a very good impersonation of an idiot.” Meeting Merlin’s eye he added, “I also think if you want my trust, not making me have to drag every kernel of truth out of you would be a good place to start.”

If he thought Merlin’s shifty looks were bad, the calculating one he got just now was even worse. “I tell the truth quite a lot you know. You’ve been the one to convince yourself they’re lies. And the rest of the time...”

“Yes?” _Find a way to pin it all on me Merlin, I dare you._

Merlin swallowed hard. “The rest of the time I haven’t been brave enough to trust you. I’m trying to change that. When you live in the belly of the beast you have to be careful not to do anything to encourage digestion.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment Arthur chuckled. “I’m sure that sentence makes sense in your head but could you repeat it with just a little more clarity?”

“What I’m trying to say,” Merlin sighed, “is that’s it’s hard to trust you and look out for you at the same time. There are some things it’s safer you don’t know about.”

“Safer for who?”

“You, me, your father in some cases. Anyone really, it varies depending on the situation.”

“And not telling me you’re the son of a Dragonlord - that you are a Dragonlord - who’s that safest for?

“My mother, Gaius...mostly me though. We both know what would happen if your father found out. And I didn’t want you to have to keep a secret from him.”

Another, much more painful, laugh escaped Arthur. “I think we’re past that now Merlin. But there are plenty of ways he could find out even if I wasn’t the one to tell him. That dragon is massive, sooner or later rumor of his existence will reach us. And my father’s not beyond crossing borders to hunt someone down.”

“I know.”

The depth of hurt and suppressed anger in those two words nearly had Arthur trying to be comforting again. It dawned on him that Merlin had very legitimate reasons to dislike Arthur’s father. And he’d had the means, motive, and opportunity handed to him to bring about the ruin of Uther’s kingdom. But instead of encouraging the attack, he’d put a stop to it. Forced a stop to it, if his words about being able to override the dragon’s will were to be believed.

Looked at in that light, the fact Merlin had told him the truth at all was astounding. Sure Arthur had pushed him, but he could have lied or refused to talk, never mind the consequences. Suddenly expressing gratitude sounded like a very good idea.

Grasping both his servant’s shoulders Arthur shut his eyes briefly. “Look, I’ll probably never understand just what it cost you to put Camelot above your... inheritance.” He shuddered at the memories of the dragon’s flames engulfing people and homes. “But I can’t begin to say how much it means to me that you did.”

He could feel Merlin’s tension easing under his hands, and the look of admiration he received made the prince distinctly uncomfortable. “I told you Camelot was my home Arthur. Innocents have suffered enough here. I wasn’t about to let that continue when it was in my power to do something about it.”

Arthur really needed to learn how to use words like Merlin could. The double meaning to that comment was painfully obvious to him, but to anyone else it would be considered nothing more than a young man’s pledge of devotion to his kingdom. That kind of phrasing might be critical if they were to pursue this dangerous notion of keeping magic users safe in a world that was literally out for their blood.

That was a thought for another day though. Glancing down at the bags next to them Arthur set them on the bench in front of his bed.

“Does this mean you don’t want to go out?” Merlin asked.

“I said I wanted to meet a benevolent magical creature Merlin. I don’t believe the dragon qualifies.”

“You’re probably right.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked, fighting to keep a smile off his face. A tiny one appeared on Merlin’s in return.

“You heard me. Though maybe you should still…” he trailed off at Arthur’s glare.

“If I ever do, it will be when I decide to and not before. I don’t want to hear another word about it, understand?”

Merlin swallowed hard and lowered his gaze submissively. “Yes Sire.”

By unspoken agreement they spent the next half hour or so in silence, each lost in contemplation of their own worries. At last Merlin had finished his version of ‘tidying up’ and had set Arthur sleep clothes on top of his dressing screen.

“Do you need anything else my lord?” Arthur curled a lip at the formal address - Merlin rarely used his titles except to mock him, but his voice sounded far too worn out for that to be what he was trying to do now. If Arthur weren’t emotionally spent himself he might have called him on it. As it was he merely shook his head and waved his hand indicting dismissal. Before Merlin could reach the door however one last question escaped Arthur.

“Is it easier now?”

His servant paused and looked back. “Is what easier?’

“Knowing who your father was. Not having him die obviously, but meeting him? Is it better to know the truth, however much it hurts?”

It seemed he could add double meanings to questions after all. At least in a way Merlin could understand given the way the man’s blue eyes softened with both sadness and compassion. “Some days yes, some days no.”

It was no better or worse an answer than what he expected but still Arthur gained no satisfaction from it. He nodded in acknowledgement anyway.

“Arthur-”

The prince cut him off, deliberately turning away from his servant. “Goodnight Merlin.”  

The other man was quiet for a count of three then acknowledged the subject was closed, for tonight at least. “Sleep well, Arthur.”

The door closed behind him and the exhausted prince collapsed into a chair by the fire. One question had been answered tonight, and he now had a dozen new ones to ask. At this rate he’d figure out the world around him oh... two years after he was dead.

One thing was glad for though - Merlin was underfoot again. The other man might not have been spilling all his secrets, and quite frankly there were some things Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted details about (those claims about saving his life probably wouldn’t do the prince’s ego any favors), but it was clear Merlin was at his side because he chose to be there. And he still willing to obey when it counted. A fact the prince was deeply grateful for.

Camelot owed his servant a debt. Even if his father would never acknowledge it, Arthur could. With a dragon as a... servant?... ally?, whatever it was, Merlin would have no trouble bringing punishment on any kingdom, and especially one that had taken his father from him. Arthur didn’t know the details, but he had no doubt Uther played a role in leaving his only friend fatherless. That was something that could ever be gotten back - Arthur knew that better than anyone. One apology wasn’t nearly enough to make up for that. He could only pray it never pushed Merlin to become his enemy.

They may not have been acknowledged friends, and he may not be happy to have another person to shield, but Arthur knew without a doubt he’d keep a hundred secrets if it meant that would never happen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same day as Chapter 5. Morgana and Gwen make a series of interesting discoveries of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this, I struggled with parts of it. Morgana continues to be interesting to write but Gwen's tough. Her character was kinda all over the place during the course of the show so it was a little hard to pin her down to one set of actions. I do want her to be a real support for Morgana though (poor girl needs it) so hopefully the potential for that comes across.

After being trapped for so long within the castle walls the outside air, even awash with the scents of raw food, animals, and, if she got too close, under washed bodies, was the sweetest thing Morgana had smelled in a long time.   

The clouds gathering on the horizon spoke of storms that would arrive before the morning was out but for now the sun shone pleasantly warm, and the hubbub of the market was not yet too noisy for her still aching head.

Gwen, clearly relishing an activity she’d gone a year without, made the most of the occasion. Her happy chatter filled the air as they walked, and she spared no greeting or compliments to any of the vendors. One would forget she didn’t see these people every day of her life for how enthusiastic she was in speaking to them.

That’s not to say she was neglectful of her charge. Many a time she tried to spark Morgana’s participation in whatever conversation she was having and part of Morgana truly wanted to join in. A round of old gossip and inside jokes would make for a good break in her cycle of dark thoughts if nothing else, she just couldn’t spare the energy. Her remarks wouldn’t be sincere and the other woman would pick up on that in an instant.

Her mood was further dampened the further they walked. There was no concealing the signs of destruction she witnessed - burnt out homes, wreckage of what has once been wagons and other tools, dozens of flowers and other trinkets resting up against partially collapsed walls as a kind of improvised memorial. Her chest tightened at the sight of it all.

Logically some of the older damage at the edge of town could be attributed to the dragon attack the previous year, places where families had abandoned their old residences and moved further inside the walls. But the vast majority of it was far too new.

The people here, workers milling about with a weariness obvious despite their determination, by all rights should hate her for, if not being the cause of their suffering, at least for doing nothing to prevent it.

But their reaction to seeing her was quite the opposite. Eyes lit up as she passed, people smiled and nudged one another. Men lifted their tattered cloth caps in her direction, and more than one middle aged woman came up to them to express her sympathy over Morgana’s injury, and her joy at seeing the king’s ward out and about again.  

They also tripped over themselves to thank her for role in the battle. Gwen had told her as she first recovered that the king had given both her and Arthur credit in his brief address to the people, although he hadn’t said anything specific. Rumors had taken off though, and more than half the population was now convinced that it was only through her aid that the prince had been able to defeat the skeleton army.  

If they only knew.

It was the headache’s fault she couldn’t keep herself together, she’d swear to that to her dying day. Never mind what Arthur said, she’d never been brought to tears easily - not even fake ones. Today though they came without warning.

Gwen, bless her, noticed the first drops almost before they’d fallen and, whether she guessed the real reason for them or not, hurriedly looked around for a place to sequester her from the public eye. A kind faced woman with brown eyes and rosy cheeks who’d been observing them from her front steps came forward and took charge of the situation, ushering them inside her home.

“Begging my lady’s pardon, but you shouldn’t be out in the sun at a time like this. You can rest here for a bit.”

“Thank you,” Gwen answered when Morgana could only squint at the woman.

Correctly interpreting the look on the young woman’s face, their hostess disappeared for a few moments before returning with a bucket of water. Indicating to Gwen that she should help Morgana sit, she pulled a cloth from inside the bucket and wrung it out before passing it over.

“You just rest that on your head now, that right. You’ll feel better in no time.”

The woman spoke to Gwen in low tones, her maid no doubt explaining what she’d been suffering, while Morgana did as instructed. The cold water did wonders to soothe and revive her, and within minutes she was beginning to feel herself again. She opened her mouth to offer thanks when two small children came squealing into the room, chasing after a ball.

“Leo, Sunny, hush!”

The children, a boy and a girl no older than five or six, quieted immediately and looked at the two strangers with alert expressions.

“Go play in the backroom,” the woman ordered.

“But we’re hungry,” the boy spoke up.

“You can have something later, we have a guest. Go.”

“Oh no,” Morgana held out her hand, getting shakily to her feet. “Please, I’ve no need for your attention, you should feed your children.”

“Well…” the woman hesitated.

“Here I’ll help,” Gwen offered. “We’ll get them fed twice as fast.”

“I don’t exactly have much to give them,” the woman sighed. “What with the cold lingering on, and the gardens being trampled by those awful soldiers. I usually can apportion out enough vegetables for dinner, but this time of day it’d just a bit of bread and fruit. Maybe some milk if any of the goats are in a giving mood.”

“Why don’t you-,” Morgana started, then interrupted herself. “I’m terribly sorry, I haven’t even asked your name.”

“I’m Lynn,” the woman answered, “and you don’t have to apologize my lady.” Turning to her other guest she added, “Would you be Guinevere?”

Gwen startled a little, “Yes I am. You know me?”

Lynn smiled. “Ah, I wouldn’t expect you to remember. Some years ago your father was kind enough to make me some new locks for my gate. One of the nannies discovered she was strong enough to kick it open despite the old one being fastened. I brought him a half gallon fresh milk as a thank you and you were at the forge, fancying yourself a model for a helmet he’d just finished repairing.”

The young woman blushed at the reminder of her childhood antics and Morgana hid a smile. “Why don’t you go and see about the milk and I’ll get some wood for your fire.” She suggested to cover her embarrassment.

The woman glanced between the children and Morgana, a faint restraint in her manner. “You be quiet and don’t bother her,” she finally told them before moving to the back door. “I won’t be long.” The words sounded more like a reassurance than a statement of fact.

Gwen followed her outside and Morgana watched with a slightly puzzled air as the children returned to playing, albeit with only half their minds on their game. They seemed nervous, although that could easily just be from being left alone with a woman they didn’t know. Her head now only a slight bother she decided to try to engage them in some way.

“Hello.”

At the sound of her voice they dropped all pretense of trying to amuse themselves and turned toward her. Trying not to melt at their half shy, half curious, completely adorable little faces she smiled softly.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

“Morgana,” she answered, “you’re Sunny?” The child nodded and she looked at the boy in turn. “Leo is it?”

“Leofric actually my lady, but most people call me Leo yes.” He pointed to his sister, “Her full name is Sunngifu. You don’t live here.”

Morgana blinked at the abrupt statement. “I don’t live in your house?”

“You don’t live in this town,” Leo clarified.

“Why do you say that?”

Sunny answered her. “Nobody wears dresses like that here.”

Glancing down, Morgana took in the rich green silk of her gown with its sheer sleeves and gold embroidery. Compared to the homespun fabric the children were wearing the contrast was startling.

“I imagine not. I live up at the castle.” Was it her imagination or did the children grow paler at hearing that?

“With the king?” Leofric asked.

“Well... yes, he lives there too.” Yes the boy’s complexion was decidedly ashen, and if she wasn’t mistaken that friendly arm he had around Sunny’s shoulders tightened protectively. To change the subject she asked, “So do you help your mother take care of the goats?”

“She’s not our mother.”

“Hush Sunny. Yes ma’am we both can milk a goat.”

“Only the old one, she’s the one that not kicks us.”

“Which do you like better, boy goats or girl goats?”

“We don’t have a boy goat,” she was informed.

“Boy goats stink!” was Sunny’s opinion. She pinched her nose to emphasize the point. “Ms Lynn says you can’t keep boy goats with girl goats ‘cause boy goats makes the milk taste like stink.”

“I see,” was all Morgana could say in response to this impromptu lesson on goat biology.

Obviously deciding she’d contributed enough to the conversation, Sunny dropped down to her hands and knees to fetch the ball from where it had rolled under the table. As she stood and shook her hand free from where it was caught in her oversized sleeve, the sleeve fell back to her elbow and Morgana caught sight of a very distinctive spiral mark of the child’s arm.

Understanding from her reaction that there was no misunderstanding on this stranger’s part of just what that symbol was, Sunny’s lips began to tremble and Leo immediately pressed her to his side looking desperately between her and the door behind him.

“Please don’t tell about us,” he pleaded in a voice barely above a whisper. “We never hurt people, and Ms Lynn didn’t neither. Father and Mother are dead, she just gave us a home. We just want to-”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright,” Morgana soothed just as quietly. She moved to sit on her knees in front of them, and took his free hand in hers. Sunny whimpered and pushed closer to her brother, shoving a thumb in her mouth. “It’s okay, I promise. I won’t tell, please don’t be afraid. Please don’t think I’ll let people hurt you.”

“The king would. You live with the king.”

_“Why wouldn’t you be like him?”_ was the unspoken accusation and if she wasn’t in front of terrified little ones Morgana would have launched into a vehement denial of being anything like that man.

Instead she took a deep, calming breath and, stealing a glance at the half-open door, lowered her voice voice even further. “I’ll tell you a secret. I have a sister too, and she can use magic.”

Leo sucked in a breath and Sunny poked her head up from where it’d been buried in his chest. “Does she live here?” they asked.

“No, she doesn’t. I wish she could.” _Do you really?_ A corner of her mind asked. She pushed the thought away. “So you see? I would never let someone die for no reason other than how they were born. It would be like killing someone I love. Can you believe me?”

Brother and sister looked at each other for a long moment, communicating in a way that was lost to Morgana. Eventually they nodded to each other then to her.  

“Good,” she smiled warmly at them. “I promise you, someday it won’t be like this. Someday... someday we’ll all be safe.”

* * *

 She and Gwen returned to the castle immediately following the snack Lynn had insisted the two of them share. She’d also insisted Morgana go straight to bed as soon as they got back, a suggestion her maid had seconded wholeheartedly.

Despite not feeling tired she’d taken the advice and had fallen into a blissfully undisturbed sleep, only to be awoken after less than two hours by the sounds of construction. Climbing out of bed, she moved to her window and was greeted by the unpleasant sight of a gallows being built in the courtyard.

“That didn’t take long.”

“My lady?” a voice called questioningly.

Jumping slightly at the unexpected presence, Morgana clarified, “The execution. Tell me, what poor soul is falling victim to Uther’s vendetta this time?”

Gwen came to the window her brow wrinkled in thought. “I don’t- Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry. You wouldn’t have heard.”

Morgana turned to her expectantly. “Heard what?” she asked bracing herself for the worst.

“Did you ever meet a man named Harris?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it.  

“You would have seen him or his daughters making deliveries maybe,” Gwen explained. “The family didn’t have a title but Harris was the owner of Camelot’s fourth largest barley and rye fields.”

“Was?”

“He was found dead after Cenred’s army attacked.”

Morgana blinked at the bare bones statement. There was an edge to the way it was spoken that she’d previously not associated with her maid. “I’m guessing there’s a connection?” She asked, gesturing to the scene below them.

Gwen nodded. “When his body was discovered there were several others around him, so at first no one thought there was anything unusual. But according his eldest daughter Briony, the two of them were with friends when the attack started, on the other side of town. They’d lost sight of each other in the panic, but last she’d seen he was headed in the opposite direction of where he was found.

“Briony’s a friend of mine. She came to me with her worries and between the two of us we got Gaius to look at her father’s wounds. Long story short, he died from a stabbing but not the sort a soldier would inflict, no matter how sloppy. And seeing as her cousin Stanley had been trying both directly and underhandedly, to get ahold of his uncle’s lands for months now, and he had marched in to take charge before Harris was even buried, Gaius felt she had good reason to be suspicious.

“As soon as the king was well enough to hear petitions again, she pleaded for an investigation into her father’s death. Uther wasn’t going to bother about it, but Arthur pushed for her request to be granted. Two days ago they found the knife used to stab him buried in an alley not far from where she and her father parted. Several people recognized it as belonging to her cousin. That was the last bit of evidence needed for sentence to be passed. He’s going to be executed at noon tomorrow.”

This was stated with no small hint of satisfaction. Morgana would have shared it if she’d been able to speak just then. As it was she could only blink, and her continued silence drew Gwen’s attention.

“Are you alright? Morgana, what’s wrong?”

She shook off her astonishment with an effort. “Nothing’s wrong. I’d just forgotten what it felt like to hear of actual justice being performed. It feels like it’s been forever. Those who deserve punishment go free, and innocents...well you don’t need me to say anything about that. Sometimes I doubt there will ever be a day when good doesn’t suffer evil’s whims. Your friend should count herself lucky Arthur listened to her.”  

“He’s,” Gwen hesitated, “I think he’s improved some in that respect. It still takes more work than it should - those are Merlin’s words, not mine - but he’s more willing to stand up for people like us.”

“Us?”

“I mean those like me and Briony. Ordinary people. The kind that... others would say aren’t worth defending. He’s gotten tougher on the knights and the guards. They don’t harass the servants and townspeople so much anymore. I believe...well when the time comes, I think he’ll be a good king.”        

Would he? Overall that would make things simpler. Morgana wondered what it would take convince the others to make that time come just a little quicker.

“Gwen?” She began, affecting hesitation. Her maid looked up. “What would you do if you knew someone was guilty of a crime - if they killed people for instance - but they were in a position where the law wouldn’t judge them, even if those responsible for upholding it knew the truth? Do you think a person would then be justified in... well... punishing them as they deserved to be punished?

The other woman grew very quiet, a worried look on her face. Morgana feigned dismissing the thought, lest she get suspicious.

“I’ve upset you, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t talk of such things.”

“It’s...it’s alright, I was just remembering. Merlin asked me much of the same thing after Uther killed my father. He asked if Uther died what would I do, and would I want that to happen.”

That took a minute to process.

Merlin had said he knew about her plotting with Tauren to attack Uther. That implied he knew the visit to her father’s grave had been a set up. But she hadn’t seen even a hint of his presence the entire journey. Had he chosen not to stop her? Or did he just guess the eventual outcome, that she wouldn’t be able to go through with it? It was quite something to learn she hadn’t been alone in her quest for revenge back then.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, praying her eagerness wasn’t obvious.   

“I said if I tried to murder the king for what he’d done it would make me no better than him.” Gwen answered, quietly but firmly.

Morgana chewed on that as she carried on talking. Something about real justice not being solely about punishing the wrong. Because whether they died or not it didn’t bring their victims back. But wasn’t it it’s own kind of satisfaction anyway?

“Those responsible for suffering will be punished sooner or later,” Gwen summed up. “I’d rather focus on helping those who’ve been hurt. Hastening their tormentor’s death doesn’t do anything but stain your own soul. And who knows how many other people will be hurt in the process?”  

Morgana sighed to herself. It kept coming back to that didn’t it? Was eliminating one person, or even a few people, worth it when you couldn’t guarantee they would be the only ones affected?

* * *

 The rain had come as expected but it moved on before long, leaving the evening crisp but pleasant.

Sitting at the private dining table in her former place at the king’s left, Morgana wished the storms had stayed. They would have been a more appropriate accompaniment to both her mood and the room’s atmosphere.

Arthur had stopped by earlier that afternoon to tell her Uther had summoned both of them to dine with him that evening. He’d looked about as happy to give the news as she had been to get it, repeating the message with the attitude of a man getting an unpleasant task out of the way as quickly as possible.

When she’d expressed her unwillingness to cooperate, he’d sighed and given her a pleading look. “You can’t avoid him forever, he’ll only get suspicious. Make a show of being back to your old routine, and the thrill of seeing you alive and well again will wear off soon enough.”

He’d sounded vaguely bitter saying that, and she was reminded that Uther tended to set aside his kingly facade around Arthur only when the prince lay on the brink of death. Once he’d recovered, the role of father was forgotten and expectations of having a perfect, obedient heir rather than a son returned tenfold.  

“And please,” Arthur continued, “the last thing any of us need is an altercation. Try not to provoke him.”

“I know how he expects me to behave.” She answered sourly.

“I hope so,” was all the answer she got back.

She watched him now distractedly working his way through the meal, eating mechanically and only making token efforts to carry on conversation with his father. He kept giving Merlin sidelong looks whenever his servant got close to tend to him, looks Merlin ignored them more often than not. Morgana couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the two of them were arguing over tonight.

“Well you’re all a cheery bunch this evening.” Uther commented, interrupting her musings. “I’ve seen less solemnity at state funerals.”

_“Probably because half those in attendance are secretly elated the poor departed soul is out of their lives.”_ Morgana kept the thought to herself. Before her time away she probably would have tossed it out without hesitation. If Uther were in the mood he was now, he would laugh, compliment her on wit, and go on to relate some story about such an occasion where he’d shared just such a feeling.

Now, as she watched him hold out his goblet for what was by her count his fourth refill, the last thing she ever wanted to prompt from him was a laugh. It could only be hoped the servants hadn’t bothered to water the wine down the usual amount. She gained enough pleasure from the thought of the king greeting the morning with a pounding head and layer of fuzz on his murderous tongue, to be able to dredge up a not too fake looking smile when he turned to look at her.

“Just tired Father.” Arthur said, saving her from having to hold the smile. “On top of the double training drills, there’s a lot of work still to be done in the lower town.”

“Ah yes, well that is of no concern to you.”

Arthur frowned along with Morgana. “You assigned me to oversee the repairs personally.”

“Yes, and now I have a much more important assignment for you. There have been an unusually high incidences of druid sightings in the area. Sentries have spotted smoke in the eastern woods, less than two miles from the citadel walls.”

Arthur chewed his last bite slowly, the look on his face unreadable.

“I fail to see how smoke is relevant,” Morgana put in. “Anyone can build a campfire. And even if it is the druids it doesn’t mean that we have cause for concern.”

“She’s right Father. The reports state Cenred’s army destroyed a great deal of the forest. They’re likely just trying to find a new place to live. If any of them were making trouble we would hear of it. Any persons attempting to enter the city who are unable to prove they are here on legitimate business, are held at the gates for questioning and their possessions are searched. The guards know the consequences for lapses in vigilance.”

Morgana barely hid her surprise. If what he was saying was true then how did that woman Lynn smuggle those two children into her care? Was their family already within the walls? Or did one or two of those keeping watch know better than to assume children were part of a malicious force to be snuffed out at all costs? She would have to return as soon as possible and get answers. If someone really could be smuggled in perhaps they could be gotten out the same way.

She tuned back into the conversation just in time to catch Uther make an accusation of being plotted against. It was quite an effort to refrain from rolling her eyes at his paranoia.

Arthur seemed to be having a hard time as well. “Father,” he said slowly and she could hear a slight strain to his voice, “if they were doing that we wouldn’t be getting so much as a glimpse of them. They wouldn’t be this close to Camelot unless they were desperate.”

“And desperate times times lead to desperate actions. I won’t allow them to catch us with our guard down. First thing tomorrow you will lead a contingent of our most experienced knights to locate the nearest druid encampment and eliminate them.”

No promise in the world would keep her from responding to that. “You want him to butcher an entire camp?! Families, children?”

“A small group needs to be brought back alive of course. Before execution they’ll be interrogated as to their contacts in the city, but for the rest,” Uther waved a hand, “they’ll be of no use to us. And why should you care, Morgana? I haven’t forgotten what you must have suffered at their hands. You should be pleased by their destruction.”   

Her magic, weakened by weeks of disuse, flared inside her. Fury at her guardian’s madness (had the mandrake root broken his mind after all? Or was it the wine?), panic over the thought of Leofric, Sunngifu, and dozens like them being caught up in an arbitrary slaughter, desire to be free of her old feelings of helplessness, it was all threatening to boil over, and would have if it weren’t for the timely intervention of Merlin knocking Arthur’s goblet off the table. It was mostly empty, but the noise was enough to temporarily pull all three diners attention away from their conversation.

Uther snapped off several insults at the servant who meekly stammered an apology, although she could see in his eyes he was just as angry as she was. He set the cup back on the table, and Arthur quietly shooed him back to his corner, before simultaneously joining her in voicing objection to the king’s plan.

“The druids are peaceful.”

“Such an action will do nothing but alienate the people!”

Arthur met her eyes over the table, a question in his. She hesitated half a second then shook her head. She’d let him talk. It was time to see how far he’d take his promise to aid her cause, to see if he really had her back.

“To turn on our own citizens now,” the prince reasoned, picking up on her train of thought, “to order the soldiers who should be providing protection and support to go bursting into homes, looking for people to arrest and execute without a shred of credible evidence as to their treason would sow more fear and distrust than our enemies have accomplished this entire year. That is something we do not need.”

“My word is all the evidence you require,” Uther sneered. “It’s always been enough for you in the past. Why do you oppose me now?” He sounded genuinely hurt and Morgana could see Arthur’s resolve crack slightly. She coughed quietly and a swift glance her direction had him gathering himself again.

“In the past the worst danger Camelot faced was those whom you deemed to be a threat. Things are different now. Within the past year alone we’ve had to cope with an attack, a long standing rescue operation that drew away more of our defences than logic would deem practical, not,” he held up a hand, “that I would have done anything different. Our mission was worth every sacrifice.” His every word breathed sincerity and she lowered her gaze away from the intense caring in his eyes.

“But Morgana wasn’t home a week before her captors tried to lay waste to Camelot once again. They may have failed in their objective but there was already too much loss. And while the leaders of that attack live it’s only a matter of time before they return. Those are the magic wielders we need to concern ourselves with. The ones who’ve made their malicious agenda clear, and who have no intention of stopping until they’ve eliminated everyone standing in the path of what they want.

“Going after people that despite open persecution have never been proven to have lead an attack against us is a waste of time and resources, and an insult to those who have given their lives in service to the crown. They deserve justice and our people deserve to not live in fear of their own army. Even if we happen to catch one or two who of those who _might_ mean us harm it will leave us vulnerable to those we _know_ do.”

Uther looked both stunned that his precious ally, who’d up until now done anything to please him, was actually using the brain he’d been born with, and insulted that it was being used against him. The room held its collective breath while the king stared at his heir.

“I never thought I would see the day when you would protect Camelot’s enemies. I must say I’m gravely disappointed.”

Morgana felt herself wince on his behalf but, astonishingly, Arthur stood his ground. “I’m protecting _you_ father. Your recent indisposition has not gone unnoticed by the people, and the majority of the council have guessed at its cause. Already there have been whispers about the damage it may have done to the stability of the kingdom.”

“And just what is being done about these rumors?” Uther challenged.

“ _Currently,”_ Arthur stressed the word, “they’ve being summarily dismissed by the few who’ve heard them. I must warn you though that putting the elimination of anyone who has even an unconscious connection to sorcery above both the needs of a people who’ve only just finished burying their dead, and the defence against those we know seek to destroy us will only bring your judgement into question. It will make others wonder if you don’t care about your own pride more than the people you’ve swore to protect. I’ve no wish to take your place whilst you live and breathe but I fear if you continue in this manner that is exactly the sort of thing the council will push for.”

He saw the same mad glint in the king’s eye that she did if his next words were any indication. “And if you retaliate by removing them, or lock me up for speaking the truth, or anything of that nature, you will only be feeding the assumption that you’ve lost your ability to rule in a fair and just manner. Please, for your own sake and that of our people I urge you to reconsider this course.”

Uther’s jaw was locked in a way that implied he wouldn’t reconsider if it was his life and not just his throne on the line. Morgana’s magic rose to meet it once again, though this time the urge was more protective than combative. Looking up over Arthur’s shoulder, she could see Merlin thinking furiously, lower lip caught between his teeth. He was seconds away from causing another distraction, and as helpful as that might be, this time she knew Uther wouldn’t settle for just shouting at him.

Any other time she wouldn’t care about what punishment he brought on himself, but tonight made it clear he really was making progress in getting Arthur’s head on straight. It was critical no injury or incarceration separate the two for any length of time right now. If it did there was no guarantee the prince wouldn’t cave under the strain of his father’s disapproval. Therefore the only thing to do was cause the distraction herself. With infinitely more grace of course.

Father and son were immediately pulled from their staredown by her leaning forward in her chair, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Morgana!”

Her involuntarily flinch at their raised voices played into the act perfectly. Abruptly pushing her chair back, she gathered her skirts and stood. Arthur scrambled to his feet as well and reached out to steady her as she swayed slightly.

With only a cursory glance at the king, she addressed him. “My head.” Explanation or excuse, he could take it as he liked.

He responded so fast one would think they’d planned this. “Do you have any of Gaius remedy left?”

“Back in my room,” she answered. “I should go.”

“There’s no need for you to go rushing about in this state,” Uther interjected. “Sit down, one of the servants can fetch this remedy for you.”

Both Gwen and Merlin moved to obey but she waived them off. “Taking it here would do little good. It takes the pain away but I have no appetite afterwards, a small price to pay I promise you. But I want nothing more then to lay down. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Uther appeared displeased but squeezed her hand indulgently. If she didn’t bother to hide her sick look at his touch, he was too distracted - and inebriated - to notice. Arthur came around the table and hugged her goodnight. “Be sure to send Gwen for something should you get hungry later,” he whispered in her ear. “None of that sacrificing for your figure or whatever ridiculousness you girls do.”

She had to give him credit for the tease. A liar he may not be but he did have a courtier's upbring in how to defuse a tense situation. Anger momentarily suppressed, she gave a nonsensical reply and quit the room in as dignified a manner as possible.

* * *

Five steps out into the hall she dropped her hands from her head and clinched them tightly at her sides, fury returning full force. Clamping it down, she rushed to her chambers reaching them in half the time it usually took. Senses dulled by the blood rushing in her ears she narrowly avoided slamming the door in Gwen’s face.

“It’d be worth the stain on my soul to rid the world of such a monstrosity!”

“Don’t say that Morgana, please.”

“It’s true! You can’t argue that one man deserves death for killing another and excuse a man who’s killed thousands!”  

“Arthur stood up to him. He stood up for the druids.” A rather poor attempt to deflect her attention, Morgana thought. She’d thought Gwen better than that.

“Yes that was something,” she acknowledged anyway. “Although he basically just said they were the lesser of two evils.”

“It’s all he’s ever known.”

“And you Gwen? If I told you those two little children in Lynn’s home were druids, what would you think? Do you believe they’re an evil, lesser or greater?

Gwen looked unsettled but immediately shook her head. “No, no, of course I wouldn’t! They’re just children.”

“And if they can use magic, what then? Are they evil now?”

“I..no.. no I don’t think so. They’ve never harmed anyone…”

“Not one person in a hundred that Uther’s executed has harmed anyone. Yet that hasn’t saved their lives. If someone reported those children, if they and their guardian were thrown in the dungeons and sentenced to death, what would you do? Would you let it happen?”

“Morgana what are you-?”

“Answer me! Would you leave them to die without lifting a finger to help?”

“I..I wouldn’t want to. But what could I do?” Gwen’s face was awash with genuine confusion and more than a little fear. Clenching her teeth, Morgana moderated her tone with an effort.

“It’s been pointed out to me recently that it’s that very attitude that’s the reason behind so much suffering. I’ve been guilty of it as well. While I’ve always railed against Uther’s tyranny, with the exception of Mordred I haven’t actively done anything to counter it. That’s going to change. I need to know if you object to making a stand. Or if you’d rather those like me live in fear for the rest of our lives?

The worry in her maid’s eyes morphed into shock, and it took Morgana a moment to realize what she’d said. Well she wasn’t going to do anything about it now. She’d have to see if Arthur was as good at anticipating people’s reactions as he claimed.

Gwen was quiet for a long time, her face cycling through fear, disbelief, recognition, to finally settle on a kind of protective wariness. “How long have you had magic?” she whispered. “Did...did Morgause teach you?”

Morgana snorted. “I didn’t need to be taught, it’s been part of me since I was a girl. The nightmares I was always told were meaningless are actually glimpses of the future.

The druids were the first to confirm it, everyone else was content to lie to me.”

“Then, all these years...and you’ve been alone.” Gwen’s dark eyes filled with tears and she threw her arms around her mistress. “Oh god, Morgana I’m so sorry! I wish I’d known, I...”

The gesture caught Morgana off guard so she was slow in returning the hug. A vague hint of peace settled over her as she did. Something in the way the other woman clung to her, the sincerity in her words, she could feel a few of the old wounds she carried close by a fraction.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No you don’t have to apologize.” Gwen pulled back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help before. But I will now. In whatever way I can. Only…”

“What is it?”

“I can’t be party to an assassination Morgana. If you succeeded, Arthur would be forced to kill you. And if you killed him too and proclaimed yourself queen,” Gwen shook her head. “You’d never have the people’s loyalty. The only ones to follow you would do so out of fear. And if you failed…I have no delusions any of would be spared. Promise me you won’t let yourself go down that road, however much it’s tempting.”

“I can’t stop hating Uther and I won’t try. Things have gone too far for that.”

“Feeling hate is one thing, acting on it is another. You know the difference, I know you do. Just promise me you’ll think, not do anything rash. You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you Morgana. Not again...I couldn’t-” her voice choked off and this time the tears the king’s ward quickly hid had nothing to do with the sun, or her head, or any other excuse she could think of.

Could this be true? First Arthur told her he loved her despite what she’d done - not that she entirely believed him - now Gwen...could she truly find acceptance amongst those here? Once she would never have doubted Gwen’s word, but events of the recent past had severely damaged her trust. Even Morgause had been letting her down lately.

Life had lead her to the ugly realization that words were just that. Only a person’s actions proved whether or not they could be trusted. Morgana was willing to allow that Gwen was something of a blank slate in that respect. She had never had the full picture, never truly understood what was at stake. She might reject Morgana once she knew the truth, but she might not. She deserved a chance. But some reassurances were needed first.

“You’ll assist me in helping those Uther would harm?” she repeated. A firm agreement on that point was necessary before she would be making any promises.

Her companion didn’t hesitate. “My father was innocent of what he was accused of. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him. That I don’t wish things would have been different.” She met Morgana’s gaze firmly. “I wouldn’t leave others to suffer as I have. Not if there was a real chance I could spare them my pain.”  

“No...no of course you wouldn’t. As for your concern, I’ve already agreed not to do anything rash - yet. If Arthur keeps up his end of the bargain perhaps I won’t have to do anything at all. But we must be prepared just in case.”

“Arthur knows you can...do magic?” Gwen struggled on the last words but there was no disgust in her voice. She was just still getting used to the idea, Morgana told herself. Actually if anything she looked relieved.

“He has an idea. We haven’t talked about it directly. And I don’t care to at this point. The more he knows, the more could accidentally let slip. Or maybe not so accidentally,” she couldn’t help adding.

Gwen frowned disapprovingly. “He obviously agreed not to turn you in if he hasn’t already. You can’t imagine he’d go back on his word.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow at the repeated defending. “I couldn’t imagine I’d see the day you’d ever believe him to do anything good. Fancy a place by his side when he becomes king?”

The girl shook her head quickly but her blush was all the answer Morgana really needed. Interesting. It seemed far more had changed while she’d been away then she first thought. Or had there had been something even before?

“I know it can never be-”

“Not while Uther lives.” She interrupted, arching the eyebrow suggestively. Hate wasn’t the only emotion strong enough to motivate, she knew that quite well. The thought of her only friend’s attachment to her being superseded by another did nothing to improve Morgana’s mood, but perhaps it would be useful. If her maid was truly in love (the thought curled her lip), and facing a future where the new object of her devotion was denied to her, it just might be enough to sway her opinion.

Not on this night though it appeared. Gwen, after a moment’s hesitation, rejected the insinuation. “Even if it would guarantee a conceited dream come true, I still say it’s not worth the price. Arthur’s no fool, if his father were to die and he had any suspicion someone he loved had a hand in that death…” she shuddered. “I think he could become something even more deserving of our fear than Uther. Especially if magic was involved. The last thing you want is another purge.”  

Hmm, she hadn’t really thought of that. Well it was only a matter of time before Uther decided to select a bride for his son, with or without Arthur’s knowledge. She’d see how things stood then. “Perhaps you’re right. And as Arthur said, Camelot has a lot of enemies, and Uther’s current attitude doesn’t appear to be doing him any favors even among those loyal to him. Who’s to say how things will play out.   

“In the meantime not a word about this - to anyone. I know _you_ wouldn’t willingly betray my secret, but if there is one thing I have learned from Uther’s paranoia it’s that walls do have ears. I can’t assume I can trust anyone with the knowledge of what I can do. And with his current mood even the vaguest suspicions would be enough for all our lives to be in danger. In fact, I’m beginning to regret that I told you now.”

“Don’t be,” Gwen told her, taking her hands. “I’m not...well I won’t say I’m not afraid, but you mean the world to me Morgana. I would do more than keep a secret if it meant protecting you. What you want to do to help the people. I still have no idea how it’ll be possible, but I’ll do everything I can to help. Just, whatever plan you come up with, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Morgana nodded and hugged her again. “I promise.”

For a lot of reasons. Only one of which was her value of her own life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any good people out there named Stanley. I needed a villain name and well let’s just say I’ve had two prior bosses by that name sooo....writer revenge. It’s a thing right?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life attempts to go on in Camelot leading to a variation of events from S3 Ep 4 though sadly the title character from that episode will not be making an appearance. I don’t own any dialogue that may have slipped in from that episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those not interested in excuses/apologies/etc feel free to skip this note, I won’t mind. You might want to read the end one though.
> 
> To those who are: I’m really sorry this has taken so long. I knew September would be busy with work and religious commitments, plus planning my parent’s anniversary dinner (Happy 40th Mom & Dad!) but I what I did not expect was to have to deal with all that on top of the worst cold/sinus/upper respiratory infection ever! Seriously, I coughed for two weeks! Then, just when I thought things were settling, I was blindsided by the loss of a friend that, although I’d only known them a few months, I completely adored. I have complete faith that his family (wife and granddaughters - also the best people you’ll ever meet) will be cared for and that we will all see him again soon, but his death hit me hard and kind of killed any motivation to write for a while. As such I don’t know how good this chapter is, but hopefully it’s at least sort of worth the wait. I like the end part at least. Which I know is a little odd but the chapter was already long and it’s seemed like a good place to jump to Arthur’s POV in the next one.

* * *

 

“Arthur you haven’t slept the last two nights, you’re going to collapse if you keep pushing like this. At least take a nap.”

“I can’t nap Merlin, I have duties. Leon’s patrol will be back in less than an hour and then I’ll have training. Did you sharpen my sword like I told you to?”

“And your back up sword, and your daggers, and your training mace - no wait I dulled that one, it hurts.” He shrugged at the look Arthur gave him. “I couldn’t sleep either.”   

“Well…” the prince floundered briefly, “good. Then while I’m with the knights, you can stay here and pack my gear for a hunt.”

“All this going on and you want to go hunting?” Merlin very nearly whined.

Ignoring his distress Arthur slapped him on the back. “It’ll be good, you’ll see. Neither of us has been out in weeks, and with the melee coming if we don’t go now we’ll be stuck for that much longer. We need a break.”

Translation: I’m going to be expected to bash twenty other knights in the head to prove everything’s hunky dory in the kingdom and the only way I can face that is to vent my frustrations on helpless animals.

Merlin bit back a sigh and changed the subject.

“How did you convince Sir Leon to help you warn off the druid communities anyway? I would have thought he’d…”

“The druids saved Leon’s life once,” Arthur answered shortly. “He’s been...sympathetic, to them ever since.”

“Really? When was this?”

“Before you got here. Look you’ll have to ask him, it’s not a story I should know.”

“Then how do you?”

Arthur shot him a look that said drop it or else and Merlin bit his tongue in frustration.

There had been more than a week of these rapid changes in behavior (mood swings really but Arthur would kill him if he called them that out loud) and they were getting ridiculous. Arthur alternated between sharp orders one minute and cautious requests the next, as if he couldn’t be sure Merlin wouldn’t snap at any moment. It was a strange position to be in, made even worse by the fact that he knew now that his facade had cracked - and Arthur was too stubborn not to keep poking despite his worry - it was only a matter of time before there would be good reason for both of them to be wary, if not outright afraid of each other.

No that wasn’t really true, he wouldn’t be afraid of Arthur. Hurt if the other man rejected him yes, if nothing else because despite Arthur’s protests they were friends, but the prince wouldn’t deliberately cause him harm. He wouldn’t think he could risk it, and that thought hurt almost more than anything else.  

Misinterpreting his expression, Arthur’s own softened slightly. “Did you give Morgana my message?” he asked.

“Mmhmm, she said, and I quote, “Gwen and I are capable of handling anything that (insert several unflattering names I will not repeat here) gets it into his head to do.”

“Guinevere knows now?” Well points to the prat for seeing past the insult.

“Morgana acted like she knows we’re trying to make sure innocent people stop getting harmed by the kin- whoever might harm them. I don’t know if,” on instinct he glanced at the door, lowering his voice, “if she knows about Morgana having magic.”

He had to give Arthur credit, he barely flinched at the word and, although Merlin could see a flicker of unease in his eyes, it was more likely to be concern for the safety of his love, not Morgana’s actions.

Truth be told Merlin was a little worried himself. As servants both Gwen and himself were the most vulnerable if something went wrong. But at least he had a back-up way of protecting himself, one he knew for a fact she didn’t.

He couldn’t dwell on that right now though, not when there were more immediate concerns.  

“On that subject, has your father said anything more about...his plan from the other night?”

“Not to me. And not to the council. But I don’t expect that to mean he’s forgotten about it. If Morgana’s headache hadn’t interrupted, who’s to say how that conversation would have ended. Now I worry about leaving the two of them alone.”   

“Gwen will manage.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgement, but the way his fingers drummed relentlessly on the desk belied his attempt at calm. “Do druids run on a hierarchy?”

Merlin blinked at the change of subject. “You mean do they have a king?”

“King, prophet, doesn’t matter. Just anyone the model themselves after?”

_Oh if you only knew…_

But he couldn’t exactly reveal all _that_ yet. Arthur wasn’t ready for the “you’re the king who unites Albion and allows magic to reign free once again” talk, and frankly Merlin wasn’t sure he could explain it all even if he wanted to. Better to stick with what he did know.

“Their clans tend to be nomadic, separate from one another. I think each clan has a chief or leader of sorts, but more for organizational purposes than command for command’s sake. Why do you ask?”

“I was hoping that if there was a head chief or some such person, and if their clan could be located, then maybe, someday, he or she might be willing to come meet with me. Do you think that’s possible?”

Merlin thought it over. “You’d have to be careful in how you suggested the meeting. They’d be unlikely to risk coming if knights were sent to fetch them, even if it was clear you were requesting not ordering.”

“What if you went then?”

_Unuh no, bad idea!!_

“No! Um...that is, I don’t think they’d take me as an impartial judge. I’ve been your servant for a long time, they might think me too easily convinced that what you’re offering is sincere and not a cover for some plot.”

On the face of it, that was a perfectly plausible explanation but Arthur didn’t appear to be buying it. He didn’t push though, instead commenting, “You think the only way they’d believe me is if I went to them myself.”

“I think it would be a good show of faith on both your parts.”  

“Yeah. Unfortunately faith is all it will be for as long as my father reigns. I wonder if I should even try until then. There’s nothing a can offer them besides promises. Ones I can’t imagine they would believe worth anything.”

“Depends on what those promises are. They want peace more than anything Arthur. Promise them that’s you want. Promise them hope, and that you’ll do your best to make things right even if you don’t yet know how, and they’ll listen.” He flicked his eyes up to meet Arthur’s, watching him intently. “They’ll wait. However long it takes.”

* * *

 “If he’s open to discussing matters with the druids then you should be pleased. It won’t do for him to become king without any idea of what kind of king he’s meant to be.”

“And therein lies the problem. What I do if one of the druids mentions the prophecy? Or god forbid, mentions my role in it. ‘I’m sorry Prince Arthur but you’re not going to find our leader living with any clan. You want an alliance, talk to the man who’s been keeping you fed, clothed and bathed the last three years.’” Merlin wrinkled his nose at how domestic that sounded. Was he Arthur’s servant or his mother?

Gaius, calm as always when faced with his ward’s sarcasm merely said. “He’s going to have to learn of your magic sooner or later.”

“My magic by itself isn’t the concern anymore. I don’t want him to learn of it and then be told I’ve been using it for him all along because of what I think it’ll get me in the future. He’s had enough people using him to get what they want. Enough people holding him to  their expectations of what he should be.”

“Merlin if it is who he’s destined to be…”

“Gaius, when Kilgharrah told me of this destiny we share I hated even the thought of it. I didn’t want to be stuck working with an egotistical, overbearing, magic hating prince with the idea that if I saved his life enough times _maybe_ he’d change. It scared me. It still scares me, but it’s worth it now. He’s worth it now. I care for him, and I respect him, and I want him to be the Once and Future King, but I want _him_ to be the one to choose it as I have. Because it’s right and because it’s the kind of king _he_ wants to be. If he thinks he’s being forced or manipulated, that won’t happen. But I-”

“What is it?”

Merlin rubbed a hand over his face. “My patience is slipping too much. I’m trying so hard not to just spill it out the whole truth from beginning to end every time he asks a question. I know he can’t take it all at once, but I want to tell him so badly. And he doesn’t help what with constantly watching me out of the corner of his eye, or now he’s started casually throwing out suggestions or theories, and then staring me down until I tell him what I think of them. I don’t want to give him too specific of an answer, because I’m trying not to be ecstatic that he’s even _talking_ about this, and I don’t want to influence him too much, but he has to go and look so...disappointed when I don’t. But then on other things when I do give him advice, or venture an opinion, he ignores me. How am I supposed to guide someone who begs for the truth and then dismisses it?”

Gaius put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer my boy. Except that no problem was ever solved by overthinking it. Try to put it aside for today and enjoy your time out.”

“I will never enjoy hunting.”

“Perhaps not. But Arthur’s right in saying you’ve been cooped up inside for to long. A walk in the woods might be just the thing to clear your head.”

* * *

Nice thought Gaius, but with the brisk pace Arthur was setting the only part of Merlin’s body getting cleared was his lungs.

At least given that they could only be gone a few hours Arthur didn’t feel the need to bring along a whole arsenal, or even camping gear, so Merlin had a comparatively light load to carry. Just a crossbow, hunting knife which he’d tucked in his belt, and a coil of rope to secure whatever kills they made.

“So. You have a strategy for the melee?” he asked after a while. Mostly to keep his mind off Arthur’s ever mounting trail of carnage. It was getting disturbing and he really needed a gauge of the prince’s mindset.

“Same one I always have.” _Short answer. Not helpful._

“Think it’ll work?”

“Have you ever seen it not?” _Arrogance in full swing. So the hunt’s lifted his ego if not his spirits._

“Anyone in particular giving you cause for concern?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” _Maybe this will…_

“The person who doesn’t seem to realize I’m holding a loaded weapon, and that if he doesn’t stop his incessant prattling he’s going to get a demonstration of just how effective my strategy can be.” Arthur smiled over his shoulder at him. “You want to take a guess as to who that might be?”

 _..nope never mind._ Merlin sighed. “You really need a better way to release your aggression.”

“Melee isn’t for five more days, I’m afraid you’re all I’ve got until then.”

“Ah so you admit it’s not a test of strength and courage after all. Just an excuse to bash other people to pieces with blunt weapons and call it honorable combat.”   

Arthur stopped walking so suddenly Merlin nearly barreled into the back of him. “Look, I might be disagreeing with my father about more and more things, but in this I firmly believe him to be right. The knights need a break, and the camaraderie that comes with competing. And Camelot needs to do something to show the other kingdoms our strength hasn’t been compromised. That they don’t have to withhold the trade resources we need in the fear of turning the rage of our enemies upon themselves.”

“Even if what you’re showing them is just that - a show?”

“If it’s all we’ve got, yes. If putting up a front is the only protection we can give the people then at the very least we can make it distracting enough that they don’t notice it’s all an illusion.”

The words struck home in a way Arthur may not have intended them to. Regardless Merlin had to turn away before the tears beginning to prickle behind his eyes made their way to the surface. Arthur would either treat them with ridicule or compassion, neither one of which was needed right now.

_Woods. Focus on the woods._

Looking back it would seem obvious, but if he hadn’t needed a distraction so badly who knows how long it would have taken to spot the knight lying in a heap at the base of a tree not forty feet from them.

Smacking the prince’s arm to get his attention Merlin was off and running before Arthur could so much as yell. Stumbling a little in his haste, he reached the man’s side in the blink of an eye and carefully lifted his limp arm.

After several seconds he let out a relieved breath. “He’s alive,” he said just as Arthur approached from the other side.

“Good. And you very easily might not have been.” The prince swept their surroundings with a trained eye. “Next time look around before you just run off like that.”

Had he been paying attention Merlin might have noticed the concern just under the surface of Arthur’s words. As it was he ignored the scolding and directed the prince in how to grip the injured man. “Here, help me turn him over. Mind his head.”

Between the two of them they got the knight settled carefully on his back. He made a choked noise and Merlin reached to open his collar. Just as he began loosening the laces, the man jerked upright, flinging out an arm which caught him square in the chest and knocked him on his rear.

“Whoa easy there!” Arthur, who’s faster reflexes Merlin most definitely did not envy, caught the flailing limb sent his direction and locked it against the struggling stranger’s side, pinning him down. “We’re trying to help you.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot. This is Merlin, my manservant.”

The stranger settled a little at his words and Merlin retook his place at his side. “Can you tell us your name? What you we’re doing on the road?” He asked. There was blood on the man’s forehead and one pupil was larger than the other, which Gaius often noted as a sign of head injury. A person’s motor function and memories were easily affected by such a wound.

The knight appeared irritated at being questioned by a servant and answered in a haughty voice. “I’m Sir Oswald. I accepted Camelot’s invitation to the upcoming tournament along with my companion Sir Ethan.” He looked around for the first time. “Where is he? We got separated.”

“We’ve seen no one else.” Arthur answered. “There have been no reports of conflict in this area, what happened?”

“We stopped for a rest, us two knights and Sir Ethan’s servant, maybe half a day’s journey from the city. Men came out of nowhere. We’d had no indication we were being followed and they made no demands before attacking. I’d defeated three, maybe four of them when I realized they’d been leading me away from our camp. I tried to get back but before I reached the others I got caught from behind. How I ended up here…” Sir Oswald patted at his belt before frowning painfully over his shoulder. “They took my money and didn’t take my sword?”

Merlin followed his gaze and saw his confusion was warranted. The knight’s blade lay uncovered a short distance away. Arthur saw as well and moved to retrieve it. “Don’t question, just be grateful,” he said as he handed the sword back to the knight who sheathed it carefully. “It’s well made.”

“Thank you, it was my father’s finest, rarely ever used. Pity no one will get to feel it’s full impact.”

“I thought the idea was to avoid injury?” Merlin couldn’t help but mutter. Arthur rolled his eyes but ignored him. Sir Oswald on the other hand looked at him coldly.

“Like you could ever hope to understand. What do you know of a knight’s honor boy?”

“Quite a bit actually,” Merlin replied not heeding Arthur’s warning look to drop it. “What I know even more about though, is that if we don’t get you to my uncle soon you’re bound to collapse again.”

“What’s your uncle got to do with this?”

“Oh nothing much, he’s just the court physician.”     

The knight blinked at him. “Oh... er, right.”

Merlin hid a humorless laugh while he gathered their supplies and Arthur helped the knight to his feet. Gaius title was meaningless, a fact any thinking nobleman would know. And even if it wasn’t, without a formal declaration of succession, his niece's son would receive no benefit from his rank. Clearly this knight had more in the brawn than brain department.  

This was going to be a long tournament.

* * *

“You were extremely lucky,” was Gaius conclusion of his examination. “I don’t see any signs of damage to your skull or the joints of your neck. But even still I don’t think you should compete.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Um, I mean thank you physician but I must. It’s what I came here to do and I owe it to Sir Ethan.”

Gaius reply was cut off by Arthur entering the room.

“Sir Oswald. How are you feeling?”

“Fighting fit Your Highness.”

Gaius coughed and the prince glanced his direction.

“Is that your opinion as well Gaius?”

“Forgive an old man his caution my lord, but I’ve seen far too many cases of head injuries in which the victim feels perfectly fine one minute and is in critical condition the next. If Sir Oswald is to compete he must take extra caution to avoid any jarring movements of his head or neck and absolutely no impacts to those areas.”

“Duly noted. Sir Oswald you can join us for morning exercises but you’re on strict watch and I want you to check in with Gaius between each round up until it’s time for the melee to begin.”

“Your Highness, I assure you there is no cause for the physician's worry.”

“Then you need have no fear in giving your best in competing. I’ll expect a challenge in the ring.”

The knight’s eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. “You’ll get one I promise you.”

“One other thing, Camelot’s resources are unfortunately limited but I’ve assigned a patrol to see what information can be gathered about your attackers, and to try to discover what may have happened to Sir Ethan.”

A look of irritation flashed across Sir Oswald’s face so quickly Merlin barely caught it. He answered respectfully however. “I’m grateful sire. Now if I’m through being poked and prodded, I would like to retire to my room and prepare for the competition.”

Arthur laughed. “That’s the spirit. Merlin, see to it a place is found for Sir Oswald. Whatever necessities he requires are to be provided without question.”

“Yes sire. If you’ll follow me please.”

* * *

 Sir Oswald must have frequented Camelot in the past. Or else the man just didn’t understand the meaning of the word “follow”. Merlin spent the trip to the knights quarters trying not to ram into any of the numerous squires and servants that had begun pouring into the citadel, all the while trying to keep an eye on his charge who seemed to take every accidental jostling as a personal offense.  

Halfway there he spotted Morgana fighting her way through the hustle and bustle in the opposite direction. She met his eyes then immediately looked away. No surprise there. He was prepared for her to pass by without comment, as she had every other time they encountered each other. Her steps slowed to a halt however, gaze fixed on his companion. Sir Oswald didn’t notice her, (which was odd, who didn’t notice Morgana?), but Merlin decided it was probably a good thing given the flash of cold fear that built in her eyes the longer she watched him.

Merlin would have given anything to stop and ask what was frightening her but at that moment Sir Oswald broke through the bulk of the crowd and he had rush to catch up with him.

Two grueling hours later he finally managed to escape the man’s clutches. Honestly Arthur could go an entire week without equaling half of Sir Oswald’s complaints. Nothing was right about his room, from the temperature to furniture arrangements. The first Merlin could do nothing about (safely), and his muscles were crying out for a hot bath due to his attempts to fix the other intolerabilities. “Necessity” was another word the knight needed to learn the definition of.

Grumbling, he trudged to the door of Arthur’s chamber only to experience an intense moment of deja vu when a hand reached out to grab his wrist and drag him back into one of the many alcoves along the castle’s inner hallways.

“Who is that man?” Morgana hissed at him.

Unexpectedly pressed into a confined space with the king’s ward, who went out of her way to avoid him at every opportunity, it took him a few seconds to find his voice. “His name is Sir Oswald, and he making Arthur out to be a saint by comparison. We found him when we were out hunting. He and another knight were on their way here for the melee and got attacked by bandits.”

He repeated the details to her as best he could remember.

“You don’t sound as though you believe him.” Morgana observed. She sounded almost eager for that to be true. He answered cautiously.

“His head wound is consistent with an attack from behind-”

“Spare me the medical evaluation. Do you believe he’s who he says he is?”

“Do you.. I can’t...something doesn’t feel right about his story but I have no way of saying if it’s him that’s the issue. And as for who he really is…” He shrugged helplessly. “Arthur recognized his name, says he’s competed here before, but I’ve never met him.”

“Oswald, Oswald,” Morgana’s brows pinched in thought. “I’ve met him, I’m sure of it. He was always thoughtful and kind, really stood out from the others. But this man...

“You think he’s an impostor.” Impostor? Of all things why was that his assumption? She seemed to have hit on the same thought though.

“I think...yes. He looks the same as before but...it feels like an illusion,” she looked away. “It’s just a feeling I’ve had since the other knights started arriving. I can’t even explain why I’m thinking it.”

“I doesn’t matter how you got your suspicions.” And really it didn’t. If Morgana was willing to mention a danger - and to him of all people - Merlin wasn’t about to ignore it or pick apart her reasons for doing so. “Do you believe Camelot is in danger?”

She stared at him hard, as if trying to detect a falseness in his words. Finally accepting he was sincere in his belief of her she nodded. “Camelot in general or just Arthur I don’t know, but whatever his reason, whatever he’s planning, it’s cunning. I think… whatever power he’s using, he came here prepared. He’s not going to be easy to defeat.”

Nothing new there then. “Still thank you. At least with your warning we have eyes on the problem ahead of time. We have a better chance of stopping him before he puts whatever plan he has into being.”

“You’ll warn Arthur then?”

“Unless you want to yourself.”

A shadow passed over her face - the memory of years worth of warnings being met with patronizing and ridicule if Merlin could guess.  

“No,” she finally answered. “No, there’s a better chance he’ll listen to you. And if he doesn’t, and the attack comes, you have a better chance of being on the spot and doing something to stop it.”

He gave her a surprised look.

“Oh don’t be like that. I know the only reason Arthur survives half the time is because you’re around to bail him out. He doesn’t really deserve it you know. Not with how he treats you.”

“Well...let’s just say I have that on my list of things I hope will change one day.”

* * *

 “I don’t care! Nothing he’s done the last three days has been anything outside the norm for a man in his situation. Even Gaius had to admit he’s had a remarkable recovery.”

“Did you hear about the strange crystal he’s wearing?”

“Yes and Sir Oswald said it’s a family heirloom. Strange yes, but he’s not the first superstitious knight I’ve met. You don’t have any personal knowledge of him as basis for your claims. At this point it’s just your word against a knight’s, and that won’t hold Merlin.”

“Would Morgana’s?” Merlin snapped back. That ‘one day’ was clearly a lot further off than he’d thought. This latest argument had been going round and round for what felt like hours. The more reasons he gave to support his accusation, the more the prince dug in his heels.

Arthur drew up sharply at his words, casting a glance at Sir Leon who’d been standing just inside the door, very carefully not interrupting the two of them.  

“What does Morgana have to say?”

“Apparently you’re not the only one who’s made prior acquaintance with Sir Oswald. She spent an hour with him yesterday regaling all their prior interactions, and he expressed delight at every memory she brought up.”

“What’s wrong about that?”

“Two thirds of the things she ‘remembered’ were complete nonsense. They never happened, and they never would happen. And don’t say he was just too polite to correct her, it would’ve been far better for her dignity if he had.”

“If I may sire?” Sir Leon interjected. “I can confirm what Merlin’s saying about this. The Lady Morgana’s reminisces would have provoked any true knight to refute her claim. Sir Oswald just laughed.”

Merlin arched an eyebrow in a ‘see?’ fashion which Arthur, despite the look of alarm building on his face, still argued with. “That’s not conclusive proof.”

Merlin leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Maybe she’s too worried you’ll condemn the source of it to give you her conclusive proof.”

The look Arthur gave him could’ve melted steel, and he was grateful to Sir Leon for choosing that moment to tactfully shift the tone of the conversation.

“Sire, proof or not should we not at least consider what other motive for being here he might have.”

A snort escaped Merlin. “Motive is easy, he wants to kill you.”

It was Arthur’s turn to snort. “If he wanted to kill me why didn’t he attack when we first found him. I was completely off guard, I didn’t even have my sword drawn.”

“His head wound was actually legitimate, and he was probably still dealing with disorientation from whatever means he’s using to alter his appearance. Besides I was there.”

Sir Leon gave an amused grin at that comment, although his smile quickly faded when Arthur didn’t join in. An uncomfortable silence lingered for a few moments before the knight finally broke it.

“Merlin how can you be sure it’s Arthur he’s after?”

He met the other man’s gaze evenly. “Because this happens every time there’s a tournament.”

“Not every time,” Arthur scoffed. Merlin turned the look on him. “You can’t be serious.”

“There have been nine tournaments in the three and a half years I’ve been here. You’ve nearly died in seven of them. Including the one no one knew you were a part of.”

Leon’s brows pinched together. “Which one was that?” At least he was taking this seriously now.

“Not important.” Arthur told his knight. Merlin watched the prince think hard before finally acquiescing partially, “Look, everything gets underway tomorrow. I’ll be surrounded by knights, guards and palace attendants almost 24 hours a day for the next three days. If he tries to make a move on me he will have a lot of other people he’ll have to get through first.”

“People he’ll have to try to get through first,” Sir Leon muttered.

“That’s tomorrow,” Merlin reminded them, not at all reassured by the ‘I’m humoring you’ look on the prince’s face. “What happens until then?”

“Well you’ve been so attentive to him since he got here, I’m sure he’d find it odd if you disappeared on him now. Go on, don’t let him out of your sight.”

Sir Leon tensed. “Arthur you’re not going to let him face this man alone?”

“Why not? You can handle keeping me safe, can’t you Merlin?”

Clamping his teeth down hard on an already aching tongue - this conversation being a prime example of everything he’d been telling Gaius the other day - Merlin matched Arthur’s fake smile. “Thank you for your concern Sir Leon but I’ll be fine. I’ll just say goodnight then if I may sire.” He sketched a bow and was out the door but not without missing the wince on the knight’s face at his tone.

What he did miss was the questioning look Arthur received after he’d left, and the protectiveness on the prince’s face as he nodded in return and gestured for Leon to go following after him. As things would turn out he was very grateful the knight obeyed without hesitation.

* * *

Oswald - for whatever his occupation, Merlin refused to acknowledge him as a defender of Camelot - wasn’t in his room when Merlin arrived. The chambermaid changing the bed linens mentioned he hadn’t been seen since lunch.

Worry mounting with his every step he raced back through the palace, checking all the places a visiting knight was likely to be and some of the places they weren’t. Finally he poked his head in the main armory. No sign of the man but his sword was in its proper place along the wall a fact that made him breathe a little easier. Except, now that he thought about it, even the man’s sword didn’t ring true.

Pinching his nose he let out a groan. Maybe he was overtired, maybe it was Morgana rubbing off on him but he needed a clear head if was going to stop whatever the true plan was. Only question was, what was that plan? _Standing here doing nothing is pointless, pick up the stupid thing and find out before you go mad!_   

Spotting no one in his quick glance around, he slipped into the room and lifted the sword from its resting place, running a critical eye over it.

The weight was alright, balance.. off for him but for someone with shorter arms it was probably fine. The blade looked like it always had, the same as all the others that had been prepared for the melee. A frown tugged at his brow.

All of those swords had been blunted after the knights had arrived in Camelot. He’d done Arthur’s just this afternoon. Why had Oswald brought his like that from the start? If the man was an impostor surely he wasn’t going to march into enemy territory with only a blunted weapon at his side. Unless the sword was just a front and his true weapon was something else? Well there was one way to find out.

Grasping the hilt in both hands he held it out directly in front of him and closed his eyes calling on his magic to help him focus. It screamed a warning seconds before he felt the blade being ripped from his hand, leaving a sizable dent in the process if the pain in his left palm was any indication.

Blinking through involuntary tears he opened his eyes to see the twisted face of the sword’s owner sneering at him.

“You have a lot of nerve for a serving boy. I can’t imagine Camelot takes kindly to thieves.”

“It doesn’t take kindly to impostors and assassins either.”

“Oh is that what I am? And how long did it take you to figure that out? Don’t think I haven’t seen you watching me. You and that fancy little flirt the king keeps as decor for his court. I know you suspect me. I also know if you had any real proof your prince would be the one threatening me.”

The man paused, his head to one side.“Maybe I should let you try to convince him you’re right. I like fair play. You can tell him all your suspicions. Despite his numerous flaws, Arthur Pendragon is no fool. A woman and a peasant,” he laughed darkly, “nothing you say will hold any weight with him. Well go on, I won’t stop you. Or do you want to have a go at me yourself. Think I’ll confess to spare myself the agony of your torment?”

He stepped closer and tapped the tip of the sword against Merlin’s bloody hand. “I assure you that’s just a taste of what this blade can do. Do I need to give you another?”

“Merlin there you are! Arthur’s had me looking everywhere for you.”

_Sir Leon, you are a godsend._

“You might want to tell the prince to get someone else.” Oswald laughed, hastily backing away as the knight entered and cleaning the sword off. “Relying on this boy, the only thing he’s going to find is defeat.”

Leon ignored him, his eyes fixed on the red leaking from Merlin’s clenched fist. The other man followed his look.

“Ah there’s my point being made for me. Only an complete ignoramus could manage to cut himself on a dull sword.”

Leon took up a casual yet protective stance at the warlock’s shoulder. “What are you doing in here Merlin?” He asked.

Pushing down his rage Merlin managed a falsely bright tone. “Arthur wanted me to see to it everything was in order here so there would be no delay in the competitors equipping themselves in the morning. I though Sir Oswald’s sword needed a polish.”

Everything from his eyes to his posture probably screamed blatant liar but Leon accepted his explanation and pushed his way in between him and Oswald, taking the sword from the later as he did so. He paused briefly in placing it back on the rack with the other swords then turned around and wrapped a hand - comforting or restraining Merlin couldn’t tell - around the servant’s arm.

“It’s late. Return to your chamber Sir Oswald. Prince Arthur won’t take kindly to _anyone_ who’s late for their assignment tomorrow.”

“What about him?” the man with Oswald’s face protested.

“I’ll see to it he gets where he’s supposed to be without anyone interfering with him. Or him interfering with anyone.”

Merlin’s cheeks burned as the charlatan knight chuckled, all traces of malevolence gone from his demeanor.   

“Good man. As a thank you I promise to not beat you with one blow tomorrow.” Still laughing he strode confidently from the room.

Merlin’s attempt to follow was stopped short by Sir Leon’s tightened grip on his arm. The other man held a warning finger to his lips when the warlock turned to protest. He was quiet a minute or two, listening intently, before dragging Merlin out into the corridor with him.

There was no sign of anyone lingering and Sir Leon finally slackened his grip. “Come with me,” was all he said. In a tone that men more stubborn than Merlin had been forced to obey. Reluctantly he moved to keep pace with the knight.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” he asked after they’d gone a shot distance. “Both Arthur’s and Gaius’ chambers are the other way.”

Leon gave him a sidelong glance. “Is your cut bad enough to need stitching?”

Merlin opened his fist enough to study the split skin. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then Gaius can wait.”

Still retaining a hold on his jacket, Leon led him down several twisting hallways toward the wing containing the senior knights chambers. Merlin remembered Arthur saying once that a select few were allotted their own living spaces apart from the barracks. When one of those knight’s died, retired to their own home, or were recalled to their lord’s lands, then another with enough years of service or one who had earned a special privilege, would take their place. Leon was one of the youngest ever to occupy his own room.

The chamber was certainly nothing glamorous but it was warm, would have plenty of light even well into the evening and, Merlin observed with some amusement, was nearly as messy as Arthur’s got when Merlin didn’t stay on top of it.

The curly haired knight pushed him, not ungently, down onto the only chair that wasn’t piled high with papers and pieces of weaponry, and turned to dig in a cupboard. Looking around Merlin couldn’t help some surprise at what a contrast the room was to the impeccably neat and methodical individual he saw day to day. He wondered what else he didn’t know about Arthur’s best knight.

Long minutes of fumbling noises and muffled exclamations later, and Sir Leon emerged triumphantly with a roll of bandages and a small jar. Pouring some water into a bowl, he came around and sat on the end of his bed opposite Merlin.

“Thought you said it could wait,” Merlin protested as Leon claimed his hand and began wiping it clean with a soft cloth.

“I said you didn’t need to go to Gaius. I need to talk to you, but there’s no need to let you bleed all over everything while that happens.”

Merlin frowned at that statement and tried not to squirm as Leon finished cleaning and spread a noxious ointment on his cut. He recognized the smell as that of herbs used to prevent infection, and was both impressed and thankful for the added level of care. That didn’t stop him from reaching for the bandages for himself when the time came to wrap it however, nor from protesting when Leon smacked his hand away.

“I am fully capable of bandaging my own wounds.”

“I’m sure,” Leon agreed, tying the last knot. “There. Not the highest standard but it’ll do.”

Merlin rubbed at the bandage absently, not looking at him. “Thanks.”

“Good, there’s one. I do believe you owe me a second.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. After this tournament is over I’m going to insist Arthur give you actual training not just treat you like a punching bag.”

“Thanks, but what good will that do exactly?”

“Keep you from getting trounced the next time you stick your nose where most would say it doesn’t belong. You’re smart Merlin, and I know you can talk yourself out of a lot of things, but words don’t stop a sword from piercing your chest. You need a skill you can rely on.”

It took all of his self control to keep from laughing outright at that. What would the knight think if he told him exactly what skills he had at his disposal? Still the older man meant well, and Merlin was sensible to the possible ridicule he was opening himself up for in sticking up for a servant, no matter how untypical the situation. Keeping his gaze down he nodded in understanding.

“I am grateful for your help,” he said.

“I know you are.” Leaning over, Leon pushed his shoulder in a friendly way. “This will work out. And in the meantime, at least it’s your left hand ay?”

Merlin jolted his head up, startling the other man back.

“What is it?”

“Left hand!” He exclaimed, waving his own for emphasis.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sir Oswald - the real Sir Oswald - is left handed. I remember reading it in the dossier on the entrants. I like to know what Arthur’s going to be facing,” he added at Leon’s raised eyebrow.   

Technically that information wasn’t supposed to be shared by anyone outside the knights themselves, but under the circumstances Merlin didn’t think the other man was going to report him for it. Arthur probably knew anyway, seeing as the two of them had discussed the prince’s opponents before, and Merlin had been the one to provide half of the facts in those conversations.

Leon nodded slowly. “That explains our practice fight this morning. I remember having the feeling something was different about the way he held his sword versus the last time I saw him compete. Now it makes sense, he’s been using the wrong hand this entire time.” His expression grew perturbed.

“It’s an easy thing to overlook,” Merlin tried.

“Oh I know. Aside from the king, Camelot doesn’t have many left handed fighters. You rarely remember who is until they’re using that fact against you. Still it’s no excuse for forgetting. We should count ourselves lucky. Clearly whoever this man is wasn’t as careful with his research as he should have been when he planned this scheme. He missed that detail.”

Merlin couldn’t help a smile, worried though it was. “Nice to hear someone believes me in all this.”

Leon looked up sharply. “Arthur believes you Merlin. He’s trapped by the need for proof, and that’s frustrating - for both of you - but don’t think for a minute that he doubts your word. He might do everything he can to hide it, but when all is said and done you might be the only one he trusts.”

_And I’m the one who’s lied to him the most._

He sighed and Leon squeezed his arm reassuringly. “No man is an island, not even one who’s been trained to be from birth. We all need someone watching our back. Remember that next time?”

“I will.”

“Good, now get back home.”

“But-”

“Now, and don’t argue,” the knight ordered, getting to his feet. “I’m going to find Arthur. Using his ‘off’ hand in training isn’t enough in itself to claim he’s not Sir Oswald, but impostor or no impostor, sharpened swords are forbidden. At least we can get him banned from competing.”

“You heard what he said about the sword. Even if Arthur believes me Uther will never accept a servant’s word that an oh so noble knight is using a forbidden weapon.” Merlin reminded him, unable to completely hide the bitter edge to his voice.

Leon gave a secretive half smile and held up his own hand, revealing a shallow cut running the length of his finger. “He’ll take _my_ word for it." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter is started but I have 20 hours of upcoming Continuing Education credits I have to get in order to keep my Pharmacy Tech license and I’m going to try to get most of them in October so I’m going to have another busy month. But (hopefully) not as bad as September. Please have patience. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation with “Sir Oswald” leads to the discovery of yet another stain hiding beneath Camelot’s surface. Arthur wonders if it’s even possible to reconcile justice and loyalty anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this chapter! Practically nothing I pre-wrote made it in and I really liked some of it :( But it was impossible to make it fit with what would logically happen sooo. Anyways I realized since I changed the into to this “episode” my antagonist needed an entirely new motivation. Not sure if it’s perfectly executed but one could say the original one was pretty thin character wise, so I don’t think it’s too bad. You tell me though. Also I don’t know where the whole last part came from. It’s pretty wordy but it works well with what the ultimate end might be (more or less halfway there I think) so I’m keeping it. And I don’t own any dialogue you may recognize as part of it.
> 
> Tell me what you think and thank you all reviewers and kudos leavers. I love hearing what you think.

Sir Leon had given a very concise and succinct report detailing “Sir Oswald’s” violation of tournament rules, his threats, Merlin’s injury, and his own subsequent treatment of that injury. At least, Arthur assumed he had.

Truth be told the minute the prince had heard mention of a sword being held to his bleeding servant’s throat his thoughts had been absorbed in a battle between immediately ensuring said servant was tucked away somewhere nice and safe, and finding that double-dealing scoundrel of a knight and showing him what kind of damage even a blunted sword could do.

Eventually protectiveness and self restraint struck a semi happy bargain and he ordered Leon to place a contingent of guards outside the visiting knights barracks (their presence hopefully heading off any rash actions that might be taken that night without giving off any overt signals that there was trouble suspected) before meeting him in Gaius chambers. He wanted to see if Merlin had anything to add to the story but the other man was likely to downplay his account out of some misguided attempt to spare anyone worry. Having Leon there would force him to answer honestly.

He reached the physician's room in record time, the blessedly empty corridors allowing him to speed across the palace faster than was strictly necessary. Arthur’s unchecked speed upon entering the room caused the door to have an unfortunate impact with the wall, waking Gaius who’d been dozing in a chair as he waited for some experiment to do whatever it was it was meant to be doing. He sat up with a start, scolding as he did so.   

“Merlin! How many times have I told you-” he broke off seeing who it was who was slamming doors at this hour of the night. “Oh forgive me sire.”

“You were expecting Merlin? Why isn’t he here?

“I’m afraid I don’t know, I’d assumed you’d kept him late. Has something happened?”

Watching the physician closely, Arthur briefly summed up events from Merlin’s first mention of his suspicions to the events of that night. Other than a completely understandable concern as to the severity of his surrogate son’s injury the old man’s face betrayed no emotion.

Leon arrived just as Arthur finished speaking. The knight appeared genuinely surprised at Merlin’s absence. “I told him to come straight back here.”

“Did you really think he’d listen?” Arthur bit out.

“He didn’t argue.”

“Never mind. Where do you think he might be? Surely he wouldn’t have turned around and gone back to-”

“He’s not a fool my lord.” Gaius interjected.

_Are you sure about that?_

“The impostor did threaten Morgana as well, sire.” Leon reminded them. “It was indirect but Merlin might have felt the need to warn her.”

“If he didn’t, someone should.” Gaius advised. He was worried - that much anyone could see. Although he seemed determined to keep the same placid demeanor he always had in a crisis. How he did it Arthur really wanted to find out some day. Now though he had to act.

“Very well, Sir Leon and I will check. If he turns up while we’re gone Gaius, give him something to stop him moving and send someone to find me. Don’t let him out of your sight!”

He stormed from the room inwardly cursing Leon for leaving Merlin alone in the first place. “Didn’t argue” indeed. It was when Merlin didn’t argue that you really had to worry. It meant he’d already decided to go behind your back the second you weren’t looking.

One of these days Leon would learn that.

* * *

For the second time that night the prince shoved open a door with barely a knock. Unlike the first time however, instead of polite surprise he was met with a greeting in the form of a solid object flying straight for his head. Battle instincts kicking in just in time he managed to dodge it. Sir Leon wasn’t so lucky, a fact confirmed by the loud clang of metal being impacted by what was soon found to be Morgana’s silver inkwell.

Ever the polite and understanding one Leon carefully scooped up the now spoiled instrument and returned it to its owner. She accepted it with an embarrassed flush and set it down on her desk before indignation took over.

“Just what do you think you’re doing barging into my room in the middle of the night?”

Stuck for a good way to express his concern Arthur answered lamely, “I wanted to see if Merlin had warned you of Sir Oswald being an impostor.”

“I was before you interrupted me.” A voice spoke behind Arthur’s shoulder causing him to whirl around sword in hand. Merlin startled in response and jumped back.

“What have I told you about sneaking up on me!?”

Merlin blinked several times, a confused look on his flushed face. “Have I ever snuck up on you?”

“As it happens,” Morgana interrupted, looking as if she’d just been told the sun shone during the daytime, “ _I_ figured that part out for myself. What he was actually warning me of was the fact your inaction has inflated this man’s ego to the point where he considers himself invulnerable. And if the two of us continue to try to disprove that we could very well end up his targets.”

“I would never let that happen. Come tomorrow morning he’ll no longer be in a position to harm either of you. Or anyone else.”

“You’re locking him away then?” she asked.

Arthur hesitated. He should, but that was what had happened when Lancelot’s lie had been discovered and he’d only wanted to serve. Granted Lancelot hadn’t hurt Arthur’s closest friend, but these two had been after him for weeks not to jump to immediately assuming the worst, and he _was_ trying to listen more.

“If he refuses my offer to leave and never return then yes. It’s still possible we don’t have the whole story,” he raised his voice over the sound of her scoff. “He’s a liar yes, but surely not all liars deserve to be treated as a threat to Camelot without question do they?”

Her slight flush told him the point was understood. “Something else might have happened to the real Sir Oswald,” he continued. “This man might not be a murderer.”

“Anyone who believes that stand on their head.”

“Morgana!”

She held up her hands, as a gesture of surrender or dismissal he couldn’t quite tell. “Your funeral. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Turning away he just caught the look she sent Merlin, one that said ‘I’ve done enough, he’s your problem now.’ Merlin nodded in return.

“Hey now-”

“Goodnight Arthur.”

Feeling very much like a child being sent to his room he made his exit, Merlin and Leon on his heels.

“Permission to lead the group escorting the impostor out of Camelot sire?”

“Aren’t you competing tomorrow Sir Leon?”

“Not till the afternoon. And Sir Oswald was to be my first opponent anyway. You’ll need time to find a replacement. And, if I may speak freely, I want to be sure he’s gone.”

If it were possible Arthur’s appreciation of Sir Leon increased even further on hearing those words. He really wanted to kick the creep out of his kingdom personally but since that would increase the chances of the matter becoming public, Leon would be his first choice to take his place. “Very well,” he agreed. “I don’t have to tell you how critical it is that this be taken care of with the minimum attention possible being drawn to it.”

“You can rely on it sire. I’ll see to everything.”

“You can’t see to anything with that dent in your armor,” Merlin spoke up gesturing to the momentio of Morgana’s target practice in the knight’s shoulder. “Give it to me, I can fix it and have it to you by morning.”

“Merlin you need to go to bed.”

“It won’t take me any time. I haven’t been sleeping much lately anyway.”

“How are you going to do it with one hand?” Leon asked practically.

Feeling a stab of guilt at forgetting the whole point of his trying to find Merlin in the first place Arthur took his first good look at Merlin’s injured hand. The bandages were wrapped tightly and still looked fresh, he obviously hadn’t done too much to disturb the injury. That would change if he continued to try to use it.

“I’ve done more with worse.” Merlin answered, pulling an frown and a curious look from the knight. A look very carefully not directed at him, Arthur noted.

Clearly oblivious to the indirect accusation he’d just made, Merlin held out his unbandaged hand in a silent demand for the armor. This time Leon did look at Arthur, something Merlin didn’t appreciate if the harsh clearing of his throat was any indication. Arthur shrugged helplessly and gestured as if to say ‘He’ll never rest if you don’t do as he says.’ Leon nodded in understanding, unbuckled his shoulder plate and handed it over.

“Thank you,” he said.

Merlin nodded back then awkwardly dropped his gaze to his feet a moment later, as if it were just sinking in that he’d all but given a knight an order, and in front of the crown prince no less.

Having no wish to prolong his discomfort, or maybe just wanting to guarantee he was the only one enjoying it, Arthur wished Leon good night and the knight, once again recognizing an order when he heard one, retreated from the tense atmosphere as quickly as dignity would allow.

Arthur rounded on his servant the second Leon was out of sight.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Merlin looked over at him surprise evident on his face. He quickly pulled his injured arm back when Arthur reached for it, giving the prince a faint smile. “I will be, don’t worry. I live with a physician after all. He knows how to handle little injuries.”

His eyes said he’d had enough of being hounded about the matter so Arthur, well acquainted with that feeling himself tried for a joke instead. “I’m more worried about your fever than your injury.”

A frown creased the other man’s brow. “I don’t have a fever.”  

“You sure. Because in three years I’ve never seen you so eager to tend to my armor.”

“Ha,ha. I owe Leon this. He saved might just have saved my life.”

“I’ve saved your life!”

“And don’t think for a minute I’m not grateful,” Merlin acknowledged, the mollifying in his voice clear as day. But you haven’t saved it enough times for me to owe you.”

Arthur had absolutely no response to that.

* * *

The day was not turning out to be the stress reliever Arthur had hoped it would - not by a long shot. Sir Oswald’s impostor had been removed without any trouble, as if confirming his idea that the situation wasn’t as dire as it had been made out to be. But the whole situation had left prince distracted. Sure he’d beaten his first two opponents - easily - but the combat had not served to release the tension as well as it should have. Maybe it was Merlin’s paranoia rubbing off on him but he couldn’t shake the impression that despite what he’d first thought the issue was yet to be resolved.

Merlin was nowhere in sight as he exited the tournament field after his second match. Strictly speaking he wasn’t required to be. But however barbaric his servant found tournaments he liked to be one of the first to congratulate Arthur on his victories. His absence now did nothing to allay the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Quick strides brought Arthur to the entrance of his tent. The sound of voices from the inside came to a halt the moment he stepped inside.

Strangely, the sight he witnessed - that of the no longer absent pretender standing toe to toe with Merlin, who was wearing a scowl on his face the likes of which didn’t belong on someone like him Arthur thought, brought the prince more annoyance than worry.

Casting a brief glance over his manservant, enough to assure himself he hadn’t been inflicted with any more harm, Arthur strode confidently toward them one hand resting casually on his sword hilt. Stopping at Merlin’s side he addressed the intruder.

“Look, whoever you are, whatever your mission, I’ve given you more than enough chances to back out. I can no longer allow you to escape the consequence of your deception, nor give you the opportunity to harm anyone else. However if you surrender without resistance I will allow you time to explain what it is you want. You may still earn the leniency others in your position have been granted.”

The man’s face twisted into a sneer. “It’s your leniency that’s put me in this position in the first place!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean if Camelot actually held it’s knights to the standards it claimed to there would be no need for me to be here.”

Taken aback by the fury in the man’s voice Arthur tried to clarify his meaning. “The knights of Camelot regard it their sacred duty to protect and serve.”

“Yes, themselves! In my village protection and service come with a price. Judgments and aid come with a price. Coin, ale, the honor of a girl too young to understand what she’s giving up, if they get what they want, so do you. If they don’t - well they see to it they do one way or another - but you get left to the wolves.

“I’ve had to resort to this ‘deception’ as you put it because it’s the only way to make people see theirs. To make people see them for who they are. Petty criminals who hide behind a veil of honor and nobility, all the while being nothing but hypocritical thieves.”

Arthur shook his head slowly. “I’ve heard nothing of this. Surely you could have reported-” He paused as Oswald’s (not knowing the man’s real name that was the easiest way to refer to him) scowl deepened.

“Reported to whom exactly? And what could we say? Members of ‘the most noble army the world has ever known’ are behaving worse than the very criminals they’re meant to apprehend. What exactly are the chances we’d be believed?”

“You could have tried. I don’t expect anyone to put up with abuse.”

“Oh by all means, let’s blame the perpetrator’s actions on the victim’s inaction. ‘Why didn’t you speak up?,’ ‘Why didn’t you fight harder?, ‘Why did you _let_ them do what they did?’ Answer me this champion of justice, if one of your people brought an accusation against a member of the nobility what would the king do?”

“Investigate of course,” Arthur immediately replied. A laugh told him what his opponent thought of that. “He would.” He had too. His father was a hard man but he wasn’t cruel. If his people were suffering he’d do what he could to end it.

Glancing at Merlin for support the prince was not at all reassured by the dubious look on his servant’s face. He covered the look quickly but the damage was done.

“Seems there’s a discrepancy in words versus actions here Your Highness.” Oswald observed, shifting his attention to Merlin. “How long have you worked for the prince?”

“How is that relevant?”

The interruption was met with a glare. “For someone who wanted an explanation I suggest you start listening.” Turning away he repeated his question. “How long?”

“Three years give or take.” Merlin answered with an attempt at casualness. Arthur could tell by the stiffness of his frame his servant didn’t have any more idea where this was going then he did.

“And how many times have you had something important to tell him? Something that involved the wrongdoing of someone who’s title did nothing to offset their conduct as a person?”

“It’s happened occasionally.”

Arthur almost snorted at that. Merlin made a living reporting this, that, and the other person’s suspicious activities. Half the time it was nonsense.

“How many times has he listened to you?”

_Crud…_

“Enough.” The reply was firm but unfortunately a shade too long in coming. A triumphant smile lit the questioner’s face as he turned back to the prince, his point now uncomfortably clear.

“You can’t even believe the word of a man who’s been by your side for three years, yet you expect me to believe the word of a villager you’ve never met would be enough to convince you of the truth?”

“How is this any better?” Merlin asked, his voice tight with sympathy and disbelief. “Killing a man - a good man by all accounts - using his face  to kill Arthur, what did you hope that would accomplish? It’s not going to right the wrongs those men have committed. Even if you succeeded - which you won’t - do you honestly believe you’ll even live to see the results of your scheme?”

“Life or death means nothing to me. Either way the deed will be done. Not even Uther will be blinded to the atrocities his men are capable of. If one can kill his son, it will be nothing to believe that one can steal or lie. And even if the king doesn’t believe them, the people will. Their consequence free lives will be over.”

Looking at Arthur once again the man gave a sweeping half bow. “So Your Highness, ready to die for the cause?”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m dedicated. And thanks to the knights of Camelot I no longer have anything to lose.”

Coming when it did, the attack very nearly caught Arthur off guard. He’d seen the sword in Oswald’s hand but even after such a chilling yet heartfelt declaration, the active use of it was unexpected.

Even with that slip it wasn’t much of a fight. In other circumstances the man might be a decent opponent - he was certainly good enough to fool those he’d trained with. But he was unfocused, and determined though he may act Arthur sensed the hesitancy of a non-soldier in him. It was unlikely he’d be able to make any truly lethal maneuvers no matter his opponent.  

A few brief moments and Arthur’s experience overrode his adversary's emotion, easily disarming the man and leaving him lying flat on his back, the tip of Arthur blade touched against his chest.

“Last chance. Surrender and I will speak to my father on your behalf. I’ll try to get him to allow you to say your piece before you face sentencing. You can still make things better for those you leave behind. Others may be willing to help.” _Come on please, don’t ruin this for everyone involved._

Rage was still present on the criminal’s face, but exhaustion and pain were slowly overshadowing it. He was beaten and he knew it. There was no open submission shown but he rolled reluctantly over onto his stomach in response to the sword’s prodding and lay tense but quiet as his hands were bound behind his back.

Hauling the man part way up, Arthur stepped back and eyed Merlin out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t suppose you owe me now?”

“As a matter of fact-” Merlin cut off with a yelp and yanked Arthur hard to the side as the man launched himself from his kneeling position toward them. Off balance now that his target was no longer in place, he stumbled straight past them and the shoulder aimed at Arthur’s gut collided heavily against a table.

Merlin blinked once at the now extremely disoriented man at their feet before returning his gaze to his master’s face. “No, no I don’t.”  

Arthur scowl earned him no sympathy although there was a small amount of pride in Merlin’s expression. Not in the mood to accept it the prince shoved his training sword into his servant’s hand and marched to the exit of the tent. “I’m going to call the guards. Watch him.”

“That was rather dumb you know,” Merlin told the prisoner as he left. His tone was one used when Arthur had made a particularly risky decision and Merlin was in a mood to tell him just how many ways it could all go horribly wrong. Arthur guessed the man was in for quite a lecture.

_Good,_ he thought sourly _, let someone get the brunt of all the barbs for once. I’ve had enough of them today._

* * *

“A moment of your time if you please.”

Despite the polite phrasing Arthur knew a demand when he heard one. Reluctantly he set down the goblet he’d hardly touched throughout the celebratory feast given in honor of his victory, and followed Morgana as she strode purposely out of the room.

“You want to tell me what I’ve done to upset you now?” he asked when they reached her chamber.

“You really have to ask? Fine. I want to know why you told Uther the intruder at the tournament yesterday had only just snuck in to attack you. Why you’re letting the court believe him to be nothing but a common criminal rather than someone who’s also fighting for justice?”

How on earth did she know what the man was really after? It was only him and- oh great. “Don’t tell me, Merlin told you what happened?”

She tossed her head defiantly. “And why not? You’re the one who’s always insisting that I talk to him. You’ve no right to be angry that he’s making sure I know the truth about things. Unless it’s too damaging to your precious pride. Is that it? Are you hiding what he said so the truth will die with him? Can you not bear for the world to hear of your knights’ sins?”

That was uncalled for. The people came before his pride, surely he’d proven that much to her by now.

“I didn’t lie to cover for the knights,” he struggled to keep his voice steady. “I lied because the man used sorcery! Gaius confirmed that was the only way he would be able to pull off the deception for as long as he did. And that is all my father would care about. If he knew the whole story, not only would the knights’ alleged crimes never be investigated, he would see to the man’s family was hunted down for aiding him. If no family was found, the village he comes from would be punished. Either as a whole or picked apart person by person until someone was found who knew what he was planning and could explain how he got the means to carry out his magical scheme.”

“The magic was nothing,” Morgana protested. “It gave him no advantage in battle and he wouldn’t have needed it to kill you. We didn't even have it confirmed until after he was arrested”

“I agree,” Arthur conceded watching her carefully. She was still angry but her expression was less hostile. “But you know what the king’s like. The fact the real Sir Oswald is dead, the fact we were attacked, none of it would matter. The man-”

“Dagr.” Morgana interrupted.

“What?”

“His name is Dagr. Or it will be until noon tomorrow.”

“Dagr.. what he’s going through now would be nothing. He’d be left in the dungeons for days while my father had men... questioning him. It wouldn’t end until the king was convinced he told them everything he knew about magic.

“Until he’d had his fun you mean,” Morgana said her face pale and a little green. Arthur’s heart sank at the thought that she was likely picturing herself in the very same danger. But that was truly why he was doing things this way. He had to protect her, in every way he could.

“He would be sentenced and executed for possession of that crystal and nothing else. Can you really stomach another public lecture on the evils of magic? Another warning that we must be extra vigilant because it can insert itself into even the most protected corners of the kingdom. Another round of searches and interrogations of innocent people who’ve dared to say the word magic in any other tone than disgust? This way was the only way I could think of to stop that happening.”

She nodded sadly. “What are you going to do about his claims though?”

“My father-”

“Won’t care in the slightest. It’s up to you to fix this.”

“I am not king.”

“That’s your excuse to do nothing then?”

“No! I will fix this. I’m just saying doing so will not be simple.”

“I know a way to make it so.”

“What are you..No. I’m going to do you a favor and forget you ever implied what you just did, but don’t you dare bring this up again.”

She arched an eyebrow, not at all afraid of his anger. “It’s only sensible. If you were king it would solve this problem.”

“And create a hundred more. I know you’re not that naive Morgana. Whatever my father’s sins, I will not seize his throne while he is still fit to rule.”

“He lost his fitness to rule the day he declared war on an entire race for the actions of one person. His blind belief that the noble houses can do no wrong is just a symptom of that madness. You’ll see. The longer you wait to become king the more likely things will still be broken when your grandson takes the throne.”

“Camelot isn’t broken Morgana.”

“I’m not even going to bother arguing with that. We both know the truth. The question is are you just going to accept that truth, or are you going to do something about it before it’s too late?”

* * *

There was no way Arthur could stomach returning to the feast again after that - it had been winding down anyway - so taking what was perhaps the cowardly way out he immediately retreated to his chambers, her words shadowing his every step.

Did she really believe he’d ever agree to such an outright treasonous suggestion? Yes he’d always been a man of action but this? His father had earned his place as king and Arthur had no right to usurp that. Even if he _wanted_ too, what about the council? The army? They would all side with their rightful sovereign.

_Are you sure about that?_

He hadn’t been lying when he told his father any more baseless accusations and some of the council would start questioning his fitness as king. If those questions were encouraged would the council see him as a better chance to keep their portion of control and shift their support to Arthur instead?

And then there was the way Sir Leon hadn’t batted an eye throughout Arthur’s report of the intruder to the king. In the parts he’d been asked to confirm, he’d seconded the prince’s explanation word-perfect. All without any prior collusion. It was a little troubling. Granted, calling the crown prince a liar was something no one (excluding Merlin probably) had any desire to ever do, but knowingly deceiving the king was an offence punishable by death.

All the knights respected Leon, almost as much as they did Arthur. The elder ones still held the king’s word as law, regardless of how faulty that law was. He was obeyed without question as the one who knew best.

The younger generation however wasn’t quite so forgiving. They tended to value actions more than words and their first response to any act of hypocrisy was fierce disdain. It was just as hard a job training them to obey orders that came with no explanation as it was to get them to learn the proper battle tactics.

They also, quite naturally perhaps, found it easier to serve and trust a man they were of an age with, one who shared their experiences. The king hadn’t fought along his men in even a ceremonial way since Arthur was a child. He couldn’t relate to the knights the way Arthur could - to say nothing of the people. _Maybe…_

Clenching his teeth he forced a stop to those thoughts. No good would come from open rebellion, Morgana should know that from what she’d already pulled. Best case scenario they’d end up on the run with a few loyal followers. Worse case Camelot would be torn apart by civil war and whoever ended up on the throne when it was over would have far worse problems than a so called broken kingdom.

On the subject of loyalty though, he did have to ponder how much of an explanation to give Sir Leon. He’d seemed unbothered by his role in Arthur’s bending of the truth. Perhaps that was in part due to having seen the hastily covered relief on certain people’s faces when the magic Dagr was using to institute his deception received no mention whatsoever. The dawning understanding that in this instance fewer people would be harmed by keeping the secret than by sharing it was all too clear in his eyes.

If the knight were to accept a part in the whole... whatever it was... they were running that would bring the total number of such allies up to six - four in the royal household alone. The more that number grew, the less comfortable Arthur became.

Not with the idea protecting his closest companions of course. It was more that it felt so natural to do so. In fact he didn’t know what was scarier, that the lies had slipped from from his lips so easily or that he felt little compunction over having made them. Was this the problem Merlin had been facing this whole time? Did he ever feel regret over deceiving the people closest to him, or did saving lives or at least headaches make everything balance out? Would Arthur ever get used to having to lie to keep himself and his secrets safe? Would he ever get used to the feeling that his father was someone people had to be kept safe from?

And if he continued like this was he not already betraying his king and father? Perhaps it would be better to confront him openly after all. At least they could make a clear stand on the issues at stake. _You know why you can’t do that,_ his subconscious whispered to him. _He won’t listen no matter how well you put things to him._

“Hey.” A quiet voice drew him gratefully from his racing thoughts.

Merlin had entered the room so quietly Arthur hadn’t noticed him. He’d obviously been there some little time if the bowl of steaming water on the table was any indication. He was in the process of wringing out a towel over said bowl. Gesturing with his head to the chair next to him he asked, a little uncertainly, “You want to come here?”

Marveling a little at the anticipation of what he might be needing, Arthur slipped off his tunic and took the suggested seat. Several inarticulate noises of relief escaped him as the warm, wet cloth was laid across his tensed up shoulders. The heat was soothing and he reveled in it for some minutes until Merlin pulled it off to give it another dip in the water.

Watching from the corner of his eye Arthur spotted a glove covering his servant’s left hand. “You know that’s made of leather right,” he observed. “And leather shouldn’t get wet?”

“Says the man who still wears leather vests to go hunting even after I’ve warned him multiple times that it’s going to rain.” Merlin resettled the towel with a little more force than necessary, and began digging his knuckles into the base of Arthur’s neck. “You haven’t used this glove since your last birthday when everybody and their brother gave you a new pair. I’m only borrowing it because I don’t have any and Gaius is threatening me with stitches if I mess up my bandage.”

_Great, what was a little more guilt on top of everything else?_ At least this one he could do something about.

“I’m sorry.”

His servant sighed quietly. “No I am. I should have asked first.”

“I mean...I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you sooner. You would never have been hurt if I had.”

The fingers paused in their ministrations. “I understand why you couldn’t.”

_Understanding doesn’t make me feel better…_ “How is it so easy for you?” he bit out, harsher than he’d intended.

“Easy?” Arthur could hear the frown in his voice.

“To see through people. You weren’t fooled by the impersonation for a minute.”

“That’s not true. I owe a lot what happened to Morgana. She helped me make sense of my doubts.”

“But you already had them. I didn’t.”

There was a pause as Merlin fiddled with a corner of the towel. “You were raised to believe in titles,” he finally said. “I was raised to believe in people. It’s not your fault there are those who hide ill intentions behind their status.”

“It is if I can’t discern the difference between someone pledged to protect my kingdom out of love and someone who wants to use their position for selfish gratification.”

“Arthur-”

“I knighted these men. Or my father did on my recommendation. If what was said is true, if I couldn’t see their true character, how can my people trust me in the future. How many more times has this happened? How many more are too afraid to speak up?” _How can I even think of being king?_

“Arthur!” Merlin came around the chair and crouched in front of him. “There is no way to know and no reason to assume any of the knights that man dealt with had any notion of abusing their position when they were granted knighthood. Power - any power - comes with opportunity to use it to get what you want, whether you deserve it or not. You should not be judged for their inability to resist temptation.”

“I’m responsible for their conduct.”

“Which is why if I know you at all, and I’m pretty convinced that I do, then I know your mind is already made up to investigate his claim for yourself, just as soon as you can find a way.”    

“And then what? Morgana’s of the very forceful opinion my father won’t do anything about it. That what they’ve done doesn’t constitute treason in his eyes, therefore their  status as nobility will stop him from condemning them.”

“You don’t know that for certain. Think, investigate, gather every shred of evidence you can, and then take your findings to him. Give him a chance to make it right, to act in the best interests of the people. I know this is going to come as a complete shock to you but it’s _just possible_ Morgana might be wrong.”

Arthur chuckled along with him for a moment then sobered as the reality of what his friend was doing sunk in.

“Why are you defending him? Of all people, I can’t imagine you have any love for my father.”

“No,” Merlin answered after a moment’s hesitation. “But you do. If I wouldn’t let you kill him, I’m not going to let you give up on him, not yet. Not until it’s obvious he no longer deserves your faith.”

“What happens when it is?”

Merlin shrugged. “Then whatever changes you make I’ll support you. You’ll know when the time is right to act. You’ve more than proven capable judging people on factors other than what nobility they laid claim to. Nobility that Lancelot had more of in his little finger than half the lot who are born being told they’re better than the rest of us.”

“Well who knows? Maybe there’ll be a chance for him in the future. I’ll need men who are loyal to me.”

“You wouldn’t be sacrificing the skill of the army,” Merlin pointed out. “No one, regardless of rank, gets to be a knight unless they are good enough to beat you anyway. And you know they would cherish it. It’s worth thinking about for when you are king.”

Arthur sighed. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Merlin smiled slightly and started to stand up. Arthur caught his hand and pulled him back down. “Will you really support me?” he asked.

“Of course-”

“No, think before you answer. Because whatever changes I may make during my rule, whatever the reaction to them might be, you’ll have a place with me. But I need to know…” he cleared his throat awkwardly. Looking down at their clasped hands so as to avoid whatever look would form on Merlin’s face, he forced out the next words. “I need to know you’ll be willing to take it. I need to know I have your loyalty.”

“If I’ve done something-”

“I’m not worried about what you’ve done.” Not quite true, but Merlin’s voice was breathless and hurt and that’s not at all what Arthur wanted. Running his thumb across the trembling fingers in his grasp he continued, gently but urgently. “I just need to know if it came to a choice - and I can’t believe I’m thinking it ever might - but if it did, would you side with me? Will you give me everything you have? Help me to protect and serve my kingdom...even if all others desert me for how I’m doing it?”

There’s too much riding on this answer. Arthur’s a fool for giving someone this much power over him. If even his knights can’t be trusted to stick to their vows then why should he trust anyone else to? But he can’t help it. Now more than ever he can’t hide the fact that he’s never had anyone like Merlin in his life before and he _needs_ to keep him in his life.

Even if what’s taken him far too long to put together does turn out to be true (and Arthur’s still split on if it will) it doesn’t change things. If anything it proves Merlin truly is the most uncommonly, unfathomably loyal person Arthur ever had the honor of knowing. If he gave his word to stick by Arthur’s side no matter what, then secrets or no secrets the prince would believe him. And when the time comes that loyalty might be just enough to push him to do what needs doing.

After what feels like an eternity but really can’t be more than a minute Merlin responds. His tone was too steady - as if sheer willpower is the only thing keeping his emotions from bubbling over.

“Arthur, you and I have had our differences. Many of them. There have been times we didn’t understand each other, times we couldn’t stand each other. And I’d be lying if I said there won’t be many more of such times in the future.

“But... despite your many, many faults, you have always been honest, and brave, and true hearted.” He lifted his head and Arthur swore he could see past, present, and future written into the blue of the younger man’s eyes. “And be it a year from now or 20 years from now, I swear, on my mother’s life and my father’s memory, I can think of no greater honor than to see you become the greatest king this land has ever known.”

Grateful beyond words Arthur fought against the relieved tears prickling at his eyes. When he finally blinked them clear it was to see Merlin’s watchful gaze resting on him, an unusual smile at once frightening and reassuring tugging at his mouth.

Leaning forward he touched his head to Arthur’s and added very softly, “And gods have mercy on _anyone_ who tries to stop that from happening.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Morgana is going to resist the pull of falling back under her sister’s command she needs to know what it’s like to feel useful, not just loved, in her present surroundings. When a new special acquaintance enters Arthur’s life she gets the chance to do just that. (Roughly Ep 5-6 time but definitely AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listing all the reasons this chapter has taken so long would take up an entire chapter and that’s against the rules so just know that I’m sorry and I have not abandoned this story. I don’t know when but I will try my best to finish it.

* * *

“I could search the whole world over and not find a gem of a more glittering green than those which shine in your eyes. These remain but a pale imitation but-”

“Ugh no more! That’s worse than the last one.”

“And almost impossible to read. Are all lords sons actually educated or not?”

Morgana shared her amusement.“Education is one thing, intelligence and good taste are something else. Let me guess, such a pledge of undying devotion is attached to a mirror?”

“Hairbrush.” Gwen corrected, holding up the gaudy, emerald encrusted item in question.

The subject of the poetic atrocity rolled themselves in annoyance. “What’s that make six? No seven, I forgot that square one.”

Gwen tilted her head thoughtfully.“I actually think that one might be meant for your horse.”

“Oh dear. Well, I suppose I should appreciate that someone thought for longer than two seconds about their gift but I must say flattered I am not. How many more will there be I wonder?”

“None. That’s the last of the presents. Unless you want another look at Arthur’s.”

Lifting the lid off the dark wooden box she was handed, Morgana couldn’t withhold a smile as she remembered the court’s reaction when the prince had presented his gift to her at the feast.

Onlookers had no doubt been expecting her to unwrap an array of jewels or some other bit of frivolity. The trio of inkwells revealed instead had stumped them. Even more mystifying was her laugh in response to his stage whispered direction of “aim for the head next time.” It was the first genuine one she’d given in ages, and it had felt good to let it out and see the difference in the reaction of those who knew the meaning of the private joke and those who did not.

She pondered them now, watching the candlelight reflect off the clear glass and polished metal. Lifting one she weighed it carefully in her hand then set the whole box aside with a little sigh.

“Well, an inkwell might not be the endearing present but at least he doesn’t think my hair is in need of brushing.”

Her maid was not fooled by her attempt at cheerfulness. Clearing aside an assortment of half unwrapped parcels Gwen sat at her side.

“What wrong Morgana?”

“The atmosphere tonight was...unsettling. More than I thought it would be. Here I am being showered with frivolous gifts by people who think my only asset is my pretty face while in reality I’m so much more. Only problem is if they knew for a second who I really was…” She trailed off. No need to go into that. “I was surrounded by people tonight, but with the exception of maybe two moments I’ve never felt so alone.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been by your side during the party, never mind what the king said. You’re not alone Morgana. You have me and you have Arthur. And I still don’t know what exactly happened between you and Merlin, but he’s obviously been trying to make up for it. There are people here love you.”

“I know that Gwen, I just- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve never felt what you’re feeling but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to help. Even if it’s just listening. Tell me what else is bothering you.”

It was some minutes before she could but Gwen didn’t shuffle or sigh or show any signs of impatience. At last Morgana said, rather tentatively.

“It’s been almost four months.”

“Oh.” A guarded but sympathetic look formed on Gwen’s face, “You’ve heard nothing?” Morgana’s temper flared at the the relief the other woman’s voice failed to hide.

“You’ve made your opinion of my sister’s character quite clear, you needn’t worry about hiding your feelings now.” The biting words didn’t get a rise out of her maid and in a few minutes Morgana’s anger faded. “What if something’s happened to her?”

“We would have heard if any of Camelot’s allies had apprehended her. And is she not powerful?”

“The strongest I’ve ever met.”

“You would know better than I, but if that is true then someone wishing her harm wouldn’t find her easily subdued. I don’t think you have much to fear over her safety.”

“Perhaps. But something must be keeping her from me. Camelot’s security isn’t foolproof.” She knew that first hand. “If she wanted to she could get by it with no trouble.”

“Yes she could.”

“You think-”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Gwen interrupted firmly. “You’ll never believe she’s no good because I’ve said so, and you shouldn’t. It has to come from you. But think about this: A person proves who they love first by who they put first. Simple as that. Yes coming here could mean risking her life, but if she cared enough about what you needed she would do it anyway. She would be here for you.”

“Perhaps. But whenever she was around, I always felt like I had a purpose, someone to guide me. Arthur’s trying to make things better and I cherish every life we’ve saved. But in the times we’ve been in a crunch so to speak, when we’ve needed a miracle, he’s been the one to carry it off. I’ve done nothing. What good is my power when I’m unable to use it?”

Gwen had no answers but she stayed a while longer, finally leaving after having seen Morgana through her nightly routine. As long as the night had been however, the king’s ward made no move to retire. Opening a drawer from her nightstand she pulled out the healing bracelet Morgause had given her.

For nearly two years it had never left her wrist. Now though she’d found herself leaving it in her room at least for the majority of the day. Too many people knew its origin and the looks she’d gotten from time to time were...discomforting. Bedtime had usually seen her putting it back on, the promise of nightmare free night being too strong to resist. Tonight though she had a hard time even looking at it. What comfort was gift when the person who gave it acted like you were no longer worth notice?

Rubbing her thumb across her family’s crest her mind turned to when she would awaken from night terrors as a child. She’d make her way to her father’s study and, when he could, he’d take her onto his lap and read to her from his travel journal until she fell asleep again. A smile graced her lips at the memory. For all the good it had done her, the bracelet was no substitute for his loving attention.

With that thought she let the ornamental band drop back in its box and promptly shut the lid. Memories were preferable to jewelry this night. At least she knew her father’s gestures of affection had been real.

* * *

“You’re two silver over asking price my lady.” The short, pleasant faced draper objected, attempting to return the appropriate number of coins to Morgana’s hand.

“Not at all,” she said taking her package and refusing the return of coins. “Consider this a thank you for how quickly you got the silk for my last gown shipped in. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to wear one of my old ones to my feast.”

“It was no hardship. Certainly not worth the extra money.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.” She paused. “You’ve a family to support have you not?”

The man bowed in gratitude. “Thank you my lady.”

“Of course. Come Gwen.”

Morgana smiled to herself as she exited. She’d carried that off quite well. She could outshine Arthur in this sort of thing at least.

To be sure the man did have a wife and three children in his care. But in addition to the family’s sewing business, he was also an important link in the supply chain the druids had running through the city. Well he was suspected of being so anyway.

If someone asked her she’d insist she wasn’t about to let a good man’s trade be destroyed by completely unsubstantiated rumors, and that she would continue to provide him her patronage for as long as she saw fit.

The monetary support had been Gwen’s suggestion. When Arthur had first shown them the kingdom’s “watch list” as he put it, the idea had been to pass on a warning to those on it that they should make alternative plans and/or be extra cautious with their dealings for the time being. Essentially to lay low for awhile. The response they’d received had been unexpected.

Obviously those involved didn’t want to be sentenced to death for showing basic humanity, but on the other hand they wouldn’t have taken the step of lending aid to people in need in the first place if they weren’t prepared to take some risks. And they did not deem the current tense situation a good enough reason to cease their arrangements.

Instead of forcing a pause in the outflow of goods, Gwen had ventured the idea of giving the shopkeepers some extra money for the supplies they then passed on. So it wouldn’t appear is if their inventory had fluctuated beyond the norm at any given time.

Morgana was pleased at how readily the other woman had fallen into their scheme, and Arthur reluctantly agreed to the suggestion, although not without warnings. So far, all things considered, so good.

The two lingered around the market stalls a few minutes more then returned to Morgana’s chambers where Gwen set about putting their purchases in the wardrobe while the king’s ward moved to her writing desk to tally up how much she’d spent. As she closed her ledger a folded paper slipped from the back of it. One she was certain had not been there before.  

Unfolding it she found at the very top corner of an otherwise blank page the words “To show you where to come. Don’t be late.”, placed in small but familiar handwriting.

Letting out a gasp of surprise she dropped the sheet onto the still burning stub of a candle.

“What’s wrong!” Gwen asked, hurrying over as Morgana snatched up the paper again. It wasn’t even singed. Holding it out she could just make out a slight sheen covering the surface of the paper. Clearly not ordinary then.

“I think my sister just remembered that I exist.”

* * *

 

“For the last time Morgana, no!”

“She’s making an effort to reach out to me-” Arthur cut of her justification immediately.

“This isn’t reaching out, this is issuing a demand. She hasn’t talked to you for nearly half a year but now she’s saying ‘come to this as yet unnamed place and I’ll tell you what you’re going to do when you get there.’ That is the attitude of a mistress not a sister. You are not a dog to sit obediently in a room and come only when called for. Don’t let her turn you into one. No relationship can work with only one person trying.”

_Honestly, who are you and what have you done with Arthur?_

On the one hand it was heartwarming that he was exhorting her to keep her self respect, on the other he had no way of knowing what her sister’s motivations might be.

“She’s risking a lot just coming close enough to the city to meet with me.” Morgana pointed out. They both knew that when it came to a confirmed threat Camelot’s sentries wouldn’t hesitate to shoot first, ask questions later.

“If she really is,” Arthur countered, still in that maddeningly reasonable tone. “I presume that’s an enchanted map. You have no way of knowing where it’s going to lead. The woods are dangerous as you well know. What happens if you get in trouble and this time around a druid clan doesn’t get there in time to help? At least promise me you won’t try to face her alone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, she’d never hurt me. She’s not evil.” She stressed the last words, trying to drown out the tiny voice in the back of her mind asking who it was she was trying to convince with that assertion.

“In that case when you go - since you seem determined to - take someone with you.”

“I don’t.. that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? You just said she wasn’t evil. If she only wants to see her younger sister than she shouldn’t object to you having a friend along. And if you think she could be a danger to whoever that person is then you can’t rightfully object to my believing she could be a danger to you. I don’t want to lose you Morgana.”

She caught her trembling lip between her teeth. It wouldn’t do to let him see how much those words impacted. At least now that he’d made his point she could count on the emotional silence pushing him to change the subject. Moments later he did.  

“At least promise me you’ll put her off until after Lord Godwin’s visit.”

Morgana almost snorted. Right the “visit”. More like a not so cleverly disguised attempt at an arranged marriage.

It was true that Uther and the lord of Gawant were old friends and it had been some time since they had enjoyed one another’s company. It was also a fact (and a suspicious one at that) that the royals were arriving exactly one week after Godwin’s daughter Princess Elena came of age.

No doubt Uther hoped his son would be dazzled by the girl’s beauty and bow to his insistence of the advantages such a union would have for both kingdoms.

“Very well,” she agreed, a mixture of sympathy and curiosity stirring inside her.

On the face of it the situation had nothing to do with her, but she owed it to Arthur to help him maneuver his way out of this. He’d been forced to accept enough things, a wife he didn’t love shouldn’t have to be one of them. She only hoped he could reject the alliance without setting his father off too badly.

Maybe they’d get lucky and the princess wouldn’t care two figs for him either.

* * *

“And my ward, the Lady Morgana.”

Coming back to herself Morgana forced her court smile back onto her face just in time for Uther to finish his introduction. She returned the visiting royals greeting with just enough grace for her distracted attitude to escape the king’s notice.

Arthur, compliant in every way he could be, offered his arm to the princess and led her to head banquet table. Settling in his chair he looked across at Morgana with some concern. She wanted to think her bad night’s sleep didn’t show on her face, but it had been so long since she’d had a bad night’s sleep, perhaps she was out of practice in hiding it.

There hadn’t been nightmares, exactly. Just a general feeling of warning and - inexplicably - sorrow and pity. Like the feelings she’d gotten when a trader had brought some exotic animals to sell to her father’s estate. Seeing a wild, beautiful, intelligent, creature trapped in a cage...she’d never forgotten how wrong it was.

Whether or not those feelings would have any bearing on the visit of Godwin and Elena she couldn’t say, although experience had taught her she should keep a close eye on the whole party for the duration of the visit. One never knew from what corner danger could come and feeling pity for a trapped animal wasn’t always a justifiable excuse for setting it free.

To her pleasant surprise though the first few days passed without incident. Elena was lovely young woman. A bit of a klutz true, but she was sweet and gave off a sense of innocence nearly unheard of amongst those raised at court. Even Arthur (for all Morgana knew his heart was firmly in the possession of someone else) was having a hard time being distant and aloof around her.

She might have relaxed completely, content to let matters of state and matters of the heart argue on their own terms, if not for witnessing the rare moments when the princess would catch her eye and frown just a little as if in pain. Or when Elena would be in the middle of a sentence (or on two occasions a burp) and suddenly fall silent, reaching out a hand to steady herself through a wave of dizziness. Moments later she’d come back to herself and seem genuinely confused by any show of concern being offered her.

“Don’t you think it’s all a little odd?” Morgana queried as she used an old favorite brush to tame her hair for the night. Gwen turned from smoothing down the bed covers to meet her eye.

“I went to check on her after dinner like you asked. The princess said she just had a headache and was going to turn in early. She seemed surprised that anyone was worried.”

“She’s like that every time. It’s simple decency to become concerned when someone loses their train of thought and winces as often as she does. I should offer to have Gaius make her something.”

“I already did. She…” Gwen’s smile faded along with her sentence.

“Don’t you start now,” Morgana snapped, alarmed at her sudden silence.

“Sorry, it’s just that... when I said the physician could get her something to ease the pain, she seemed agreeable. But Grunhilda her caretaker immediately spoke up and said it wasn’t necessary. In fact whenever she’s around the princess never speaks for herself.”

Morgana chewed her thumbnail thinking hard. Seeing this Gwen’s expression relaxed and she put her hand on her mistress’ arm. “Don’t go worrying over it just yet. If something is going to happen you’ll know before anyone else. Save making up your mind until then.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” She yawned and watched the other woman fight not to copy her. “Go on home, I can finish getting ready for bed on my own.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, goodnight Gwen.”

“Goodnight Morgana.”

* * *

_The warm humid feeling surrounding her would easily induce sleep were it not for the buzzing sound. It was faint but constant, as were the flashes of blue and yellow. The latter gradually increased in frequency and intensity overwhelming her until just as she was forced to close her eyes they resolved into a single image. A beam of light barreling full force into a woman. A woman who’s loose strands of blond hair fell scattered across a blue deformed face._

* * *

Awakening to total darkness was at first a blessing after the blinding light of her dream, but once her eyes had adjusted the stillness quickly grew agitating. Leaping from bed Morgana scrambled her way to the window, drawing aside the heavy curtain and to get a glimpse of the outside world. The sun was just peaking over the hills on the other side of the courtyard, painting the edge of the sky fire red.

_“Do your trading early, there’ll be storms before midday,”_ or so prophesied every market stall owner in Tintagel when they awoke to such a morning. Camelot was in no danger from a swelling sea, but the thought of inclement weather keeping her indoors all day did nothing to soothe her nerves.

A faint glow caught her eye as she turned from the window. Yanking open the drawer of her bedside table she found lines shimmering their way across the map Morgause had sent. They soon resolved themselves into an image of the woods to the north of Camelot.  

Feeling as though she’d received an answer to a prayer she didn’t remember saying she hurriedly threw on some riding clothes and grabbed her cloak. It was early enough that she might make it through the stables and out the back gates without anyone noticing.  

Halfway across the northern field Arthur’s warning wiggled its way into her consciousness, along with the promise she’d given not to meet her sister unaccompanied. But that had been before the princess had arrived. Morgana was now convinced there was something very wrong with the other woman. Something, if her dream held any truth, that was more serious than a crystal and a personal vendetta against the knights.  

Morgause summoning her now was impeccable timing. She needed her sister to help her make sense of her dreams as she had in the past. And the rendezvous location was practically within sight of the castle. Fate herself could not have arranged things better. If her sister could arrive safely that is.

As if in answer to that thought a flash of grey fabric appeared at the edge of her vision. Changing direction she dug her heels into her mount and sped toward the figure who continued her purposeful march, oblivious to the world around her. She gave no hint of registering the horse’s approach and Morgana had to pull hard on the reins to avoid a last minute collision.

The figure started back as the horse pulled alongside her, losing her footing and landing hard on the ground. The impact caused her concealing hood to fall back revealing beautiful golden curls. Ones that did not belong to the person she’d been assumed to be.  

Dismounting in vexation Morgana aided the other woman to her feet.

“I’m terribly sorry. Are you alright Princess?”

“Lady Morgana?” Elena blinked at her in bewilderment.

“Are you hurt?” Morgana insisted, apprehension building inside her.

“No.”

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I was in my room, I thought. Grunhilda was there, or had she left? I got dizzy and thought I’d better lay down and then.. then I was here. Where are we?” Catching sight of the castle over Morgana’s shoulder the princess’ eye widened in fear. “How did I get so far away? I almost never make it out of the castle, much less the grounds.”

“This has happened to you before?”

“Off and on but rarely since I was child. Back then I would often get lost or end up somewhere I hadn’t planned on going. No one ever could figure out why. I have a very good sense of direction most of the time, even if I’m new to a place. But ever since we arrived here I’ve had nothing but trouble. And it’s been getting worse. I have times I get confused or I blackout. And I have these awful headaches.” Tears sprung to the Princess’ eyes and Morgana’s empathy ignited. To experience pains and fears you couldn’t understand, she knew what that was like.

Reaching out, she put her arm around the other woman and gently pulled her along. “Come on, let’s get you back to the palace.”

* * *

The princess was spirited away to her room almost immediately upon their return. Several members of the palace staff, including Morgana herself, offered to aid in caring for her in whatever way they could, but they were all turned away by plump little woman who identified herself as the princess’ nurse.

Due to Gwen’s reminder that they had more “shopping” to do that afternoon, the king’s ward wasn’t able to get back and check on their guest until long past the time she should have been in bed herself.

As she approached the room she spotted the nurse poking her head out the door and glancing quickly down the hall opposite from the one Morgana was coming from. The woman’s manner was tense and furtive and Morgana took a small bit of pleasure in marching up to her with an all too bright smile.

“Hello. Would you be Grunhilda?”

The woman practically jumped out of her too pink skin. “Oh Lady Morgana! You gave me an awful fright. You’re up late my dear.”

“I couldn’t fall asleep until I’d checked on Elena. I was the one who found her wandering in the woods you know. Poor thing, I simply had to know if you’d figured out what was wrong.”

Grunhilda couldn’t have looked more shocked if Morgana had told her the princess had turned purple and sprouted wings. “Well I thank you for your concern my dear but I assure you there is nothing wrong. She was a bit tired this morning I know. That may have made it seem like she were ill, but really she’s in perfect health. Always has been.”

Fighting the urge to narrow her eyes at the woman Morgana replied, “You’re telling me she hasn’t been the slightest bit disoriented or confused this whole time? Her head hasn’t hurt? She hasn’t forgotten where she was supposed to be?”

“Oh no-” she was cut off by the sound of a faint cry inside the room.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing, nothing. Talking in her sleep is all. Done that since she was small girl.”

Another cry reached them, stronger this time. It was followed by the sound of whimpering.

“Sounds more like a bad dream,” Morgana observed, inching her way forward as she talked. “I know all about those. Maybe I should see her. It’s helpful to have someone to talk to. And we should be friends, seeing as she’s meant to be here some time if I understand correctly.”

Grunhilda perked up. “Permanently is the hope of course. It will be an honor to see her lead as Camelot’s ruler and- my lady please I must insist!”

Taking advantage of her preening Morgana had reached the door and was in the process of pushing it open. The other woman let out a squeal and threw herself into Morgana’s path.

“Please I must insist you leave her in peace. She has a prince to entrap er entrance. If her rest is disturbed Lord Godwin will be most displeased. Now goodnight my dear.”

Squeezing her considerable bulk through the narrow opening left by the door she managed to get inside and pushed it closed again. Not letting that deter her Morgana turned and climbed onto the narrow bench along the wall, stretching upward on her toes to see through the air vent into the room. She couldn’t catch what was being said but the sight was more than enough to confirm her suspicions.

Grunhilda had drawn back the bed curtains from around the sleeping princess and was sprinkling a fine dust over her face. A face identical to the one in her dream.

* * *

“Sister you’re late. I called for you yesterday, did you not see?”

“I saw.” Morgana answered, picking her way through the underbrush to the clearing Morgause had marked on her map. “And I was on my way, but I ran into a problem. One I need your help with.”

Morgause gave an impatient gesture. “I already eliminated that pest of a serving boy. Do I need to do the same to Arthur?”

“No! I..That is Arthur’s nothing I can’t handle, he’s not even a bother most of the time. Come to think of it even Merlin’s less interfering right now. No what I need is-”

“He lives?! How?”

“I..don’t..know actually. Now that you mention it, it shouldn’t have been possible.” Morgana shook off the question, Merlin wasn’t important right now, Elena was.

Quickly she recounted the dreams she’d had, (ignoring Morgause offended sounding question over why she wasn’t wearing her bracelet) and the worries that had led up to her encounter with the princess the previous day. Morgause was quiet for a few minutes but it was difficult to tell what she was thinking. That hurt a little. They’d been close for so many months Morgana once thought she could read her sister’s mind. Now she was lost.

“A quarter mile north of here?” Morgause mused. “That would be about where the lake of Avalon is supposed to be.”

“What is the Lake of Avalon?”

“It’s said to be many things, a healing, a gateway, a place inhabited by those who are not of this world. I’ve never risked getting close enough to see which is correct although the last possibility is seeming the most likely. It would be in line with stories I’ve heard. I only wish I’d learned of this sooner, a changeling could have been most useful.”

“A changeling?” Morgana gasped, her stomach dropping. “That poor girl. So that’s why she was out here? Her blackouts are the work of the fairies?”

Morgause snorted. “A dreadful misnomer. Gives children the idea they are gentle and benevolent creatures who guide and aid, rather than deceive and destroy. But yes the Shide living inside the princess would be drawn in by the close proximity to it’s true home and would at the appropriate time attempt to return for further instruction. Taking the princess along was likely just a precaution against its lack of influence being noticed while it was absent.”

“I thought once a child was possessed it was impossible to separate the two.”

“Only once the Shide has taken full control of its host, which it sounds like is soon to occur in the case of this girl.”

“Then we still have time to end the threat.”

“Yes,” the older woman agreed, “in the long run that would be best. It’s a shame though, Arthur being tricked into taking a Shide queen is the most glorious thing I’ve heard in ages. But the Shide do not ally with others, and even if they did, they stand in our way. You’ll have to eliminate this girl before the wedding can take place.”

“Eliminate? Surely killing her can’t be the only way?”

“You would see another woman on your throne?”

“I wouldn’t see me take the throne over an innocent person’s dead body. Can’t I just...free her from it’s control?”

Morgause gave her an amused but pitying look. “Sister that involves magic beyond even my skills. And even if it didn’t, one does not does not make an enemy of the Shide.”

Morgana couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. “Is that not just what I’d be doing by killing their...host?”

“You’re smart enough to do that without them knowing it was you. Forcing it from her can’t be done without making it very clear you are opposing them. It would not end well for you.”

“You don’t know that. And even if you’re right I have to try. For Elena’s sake. She doesn’t deserve to have someone overpowering her will like this, forcing her to do things. No one deserves that.”

Her sister’s eyes flickered strangely, but she didn’t speak. Morgana waited impatiently for a minute but when no helpful idea was forthcoming she turned to leave.

“Sister wait. In all this talk we’ve forgotten the reason I called you here. Admittedly my plans are in need of some refinement now but their foundation is still sound. It’s important you be ready to act when I give you the go ahead. Now the first thing-”

“Surely we can go into that later,” Morgana interrupted. “I need to get back while there is still time to act.” Pushing down the growing discomfort in her stomach she gave her sister an appealing smile. “This is important.”

Morgause returned the smile but it looked a shade too patronizing for Morgana’s liking. “I’m sure it feels that way but there are bigger issues at stake. Once things start we won’t be able to afford questions. You must know your opportunity when you see it.”

“I understand. But a few more days-”

“No! Too much work has gone into this, it can’t wait!”

“I did!” Morgana snapped back. “If anyone knows about waiting it’s me! Four months as a matter of fact. Did you know it had been that long? Without so much as a message to verify I still breathed. I almost didn’t. Did you know that either? I was fighting Arthur to protect the staff when the ceiling collapsed on me. I was unconscious for two days and in pain for weeks, even after my bones had healed.”

“Sister-”

“You’re wrong Morgause, I am the one who doesn’t have time. You just admitted your plan has problems that need fixing. Fix them. Then come tell me about it. If you can spare the energy!”

* * *

As she burst into the physician's chambers, Gaius froze in the act of collecting empty bowls and Merlin was on his feet faster than she’d ever seen him move. In an instant he’d zeroed in on the look on her face.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

The open concern stopped her cold. She’d marched up here ready to confidently spell out the problem and demand they help her find a solution. Now though, even the most basic of words stuck in her throat. Four months of working with them, learning to regain some of the trust that had been stolen from her and she still struggled to simply say when she was suspicious of something. In fact it seemed the more critical the situation was the more difficult doing so became.

With no way to express her feelings with any kind of emotional reserve she settled on a blunt. “Elena needs our help.”

Credit where credit was due, he barely blinked. “Gwen told me you found her lost in the woods yesterday. As far as I know she isn’t injured in any way, although I don’t think she’s left her room today.”

“Has she been alone?”

“I don’t know. Her maid or guardian or whatever has probably been around.”

“That does nothing to reassure me, that woman’s part of the problem. She might even be a Shide herself.”

The sound of shattering drew her attention to Gaius. The old man had his head bent over the table, quickly picking up shards of broken glass with a shaking hand. The quick silencing glance he sent Merlin immediately had her hackles rising.

“I take it that’s not the first time either of you have heard that name.” Gaius lips remained firmly closed but Merlin shook his head slowly.

“If they’re involved things are definitely not good.”

“Morgause said the same thing,” Morgana sighed, a wave of helplessness threatening to wash over her. Too late she remembered just who it was she was talking too. Glancing up she saw Merlin’s expression change from confusion, to realization, to anger, to total blankness. The last emotion (or lack of it) was the most disconcerting of all.  

“Perhaps you should start from the beginning?” Gaius offered, preventing either young person blurting out what they actually wanted to say.

As quickly and efficiently as possible she did just that, telling them everything from Morgause initial gift of the map, Arthur’s reservations about it, Elana’s unusual behavior (there was a flicker in Merlin’s eye that said _that_ hadn’t gone completely unnoticed) then her dreams, Grunhilda’s suspicious action, and the argument with Morgause. Well she didn’t tell them _everything_ from that encounter, only that she’d asked her sister for help and she had refused, saying that Elena’s death would be the only way to ensure the death of the one possessing her.   

“I refuse to believe that is true. The two of you know the most about magic of anyone in Camelot.” A grueling admission if ever there was one. “You must have come across something that can break the Shide’s possession of the princess.”

Gaius face was neutral and guarded. Likely weighing the risks of revealing just how extensive his magical knowledge really was. Afraid of Uther finding out perhaps. ‘ _Or that if he shows exactly what he’s capable of, I’ll know just how badly he abandoned when my powers first started showing themselves.’_

Turning away before disgust overwhelmed her, she looked at Merlin.

He was equally silent but she could see the wheels spinning in his mind. Unlike her he was keeping a steady gaze on his mentor who finally surrendered under the weight of his stare.  

“This isn’t the first time the Shide has introduced a changeling into the world,” the physician said. “In times past there were potions created to force the fairy to leave their host.”

“Would you be able to make one?” Morgana asked.

“I’ve never had cause to try. I suppose it’s possible. But it will be some time before I can locate a recipe, and even then the ingredients will almost certainly be difficult to obtain.” Every word was spoken with obvious reluctance and Morgana clenched her teeth in an effort to resist throwing something at the old man.   

_'This is hopeless! If Morgause said Elena’s doomed what can a servant and a washed up old man who was clearly never more than a second rate sorcerer to begin with do to solve things?’_ She shook the thought away. When people wanted something there was always a chance.

“What can we do to speed things up?”

* * *

“Gwen said you wanted to see me. Is it ready?”

With a sigh that would make anyone sad, Gaius held up a small red bottle. “Merlin brought me the last ingredient an hour ago.”

“I’m going to smell like bog for a week,” the man in question said, coming down the stairs from his room.

“You still have mud on your chin.” Gaius informed him, passing over a towel which in Merlin’s less than capable hands didn’t do anything but make the smear worse.

“Will it work?” Morgana asked, putting them back on track.

“In the future I’d recommend avoiding relying on recipes from the people who wrote this one if at all possible. That being said it will force the Shide to leave the princess, however we’ll need a way to deal with it once it’s out.”

Morgana frowned slightly. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. These Shide weren’t characters out of a storybook, they were a force to be reckoned with, in possession of magic that (if her sister was to be believed) surpassed even that of the high priestess.  

“I have an idea about that.” Merlin spoke up, meeting her eye. His expression turned deadly serious. “I’m fairly certain I have something powerful enough to destroy the Shide.”

Not bothering to wonder how that was possible she ordered, “Well what are you waiting for? Get it.”

“I will but I need you to promise me something.”

The way he was nervously clenching his fists stopped her giving in to an oh so tempting eye roll. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you have whatever it is you have.”

He smiled briefly but the unease didn’t leave his eyes. “Thank you but what I meant was,” he swallowed, “promise you’ll save all questions about it until after this is over.”

That was most likely a bad deal but time didn’t allow her to dwell on it. Nodding, she watched him disappear into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He re-emerged a few minutes later with a carved staff, the top of it wrapped in cloth. The color drained from her face when he uncovered it.

“I’ve seen that before.”

“In the hands of Sophia of Tir Mor. Or at least that’s the name she claimed was her’s. When she and her father died they left it behind. It will let you destroy the Shide living inside Elena.”

“How did you- wait did you say it will let _me_ destroy the Shide?”

“Yes did you say her?” Gaius sounded just as shocked as her. Merlin met his gaze levelly.

“You think her incapable?”

The old man closed his eyes as if pained but ceased his objections.

“Gaius will bring the potion to Elena saying it’s for her headaches. He’ll explain that it must be drunk right away so it can build up in her system. Once that happens the Shide will be forced from her system and you can use the power from the staff to destroy it.”

“It’s strong enough to kill them?”

“It is.”

“One other problem Merlin. We have to get the staff to Elena’s chambers. It’s rather obviously magical.”

“I can disguise it.” Morgana offered.

Two heads turned to her.

“It’s something my sis-” she interrupted herself flushing slightly. “It’s one of the first things Morgause taught me. Once I had recovered enough to do anything that is.” She carefully didn’t look for Merlin’s reaction to that. “It’s been a long time since I’ve tried it but I might be able to cast a glamour around the staff, make it look ordinary. It won’t last forever but it should for long enough to reach her chambers. Provided we aren’t delayed or interrupted.”

Merlin nodded seriously, a glint of - was that jealousy? -  in his eyes. “Best let Gaius leave first. Between the two of us I’m sure we can find a clear path to the guest rooms. Once we know for sure the princess is in her chambers you can follow him in.”

“I agree. How soon will you take the potion to her Gaius?”

“I’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

* * *

Tingling with excitement, or nerves, or something else she couldn’t put a name to, Morgana tucked herself around the corner while Gaius approached Elena’s chamber. Quiet footsteps spoke of Merlin coming to stand beside her.

“Gwen has Grunhilda safely waylaid, she should be out of our hair for a while yet,” he whispered. “Once you go in I’ll wait outside to distract anyone who might come by. Gaius made it clear to Uther and Lord Godwin that the princess was in need of peace and quiet and might be for a few days. He’s dropped hints she’s contracted an as yet undiagnosed illness.”

Morgana nodded, turning the thought over in her mind. “Well if this works that may very well give Arthur a way out of the marriage.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’ve seen the way Lord Godwin dotes on his daughter. If he thinks being here has had a detrimental effect on her health, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him she needs to return home. At least for the time being. I’m more concerned on how we’re going to stop her questioning just what it is that’s happened to her.”

“Gaius is convinced that the force of the fairy exiting her body will knock her out. We already suspect her blackouts and such to be the times the Shide is trying to assert its control. If all goes well she’ll awaken with no memory that it was ever present at all.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Merlin chewed his lip. “It’s your choice. But in all the time I’ve spent chasing after her and Arthur she’s proven to be quite the rule breaker. And she’s smart enough to realize you’ll have saved her life. Might not be a bad thing for her to know just how it was done.”

She turned to look at the staff gripped in her hand. It appeared to be made from nothing but smooth dark wood but the power pulsing against her skin told another story.

“What’s wrong?”

“My magic. It’s like...like I’m trying to use my arm for the first time after it’s healed from a break. It’s all tingly and sore, and I’m worried about what’s going to happen if I push it further.” She gestured to the staff. “Am I even going to be able to use this?”

His expression was calm and unfathomably understanding as he met her gaze. “I’m certain of it. But you must be too. Just take a deep breath and remember how far you’ve come. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

* * *

Despite the usual luck of those involved, it turned out he was right.

Aside from Elena’s chambers sporting a few scorch marks from where Morgana’s aim had missed hitting the newly evicted Shide, their plan went off with very little in the way of bumps or snags. The princess had awoken from her potion induced nap feeling like a new woman.  

She was now sitting contentedly on the end of her bed while the castle staff was bustling about moving her luggage from the room. Morgana had been right in her prediction that the princess’ “health scare” had convinced her father that the two of them should conclude their visit, even if it meant leaving the object of that visit unfulfilled. To speak of the relief of several individuals in Camelot’s household would be inconsiderate.

“Are you recovering?” Morgana asked her, in genuine sympathy she was proud to say.

“Oh yes I’m quite alright. Better than alright. I haven’t felt this good in years!”

“Even though you’re going home a single woman?”

Elena snorted a laugh. “I’m far from heartbroken about that.” She smiled politely. “I mean no offense of course. Arthur’s a good man, and I have a great deal of respect for him, but there is no love between us. I also do not think he will be upset to hear I do not wish to be his wife.”

Morgana smiled in return. “I know he will not. Of course Uther won’t let things go that easily, just to warn you. If he keeps up the pressure do you think Lord Godwin will force you to return?”

Elena shook her head, mischievousness playing across her face. “My father once told me that my mother refused to accept his proposal until he beat her in a horse race. She said a woman had as much right to standards in her mate as a man. I’ll simply remind him of that and tell him Arthur doesn’t meet mine. He’ll probably be disappointed but he respects the fact that I know my own mind, now more than ever. I followed him here knowing full well he thought being the future queen of Camelot would be the best way to make me happy. I believed he could be right so I was willing to try. But now I know it is not so, and he is not going to oblige me to follow through on promises that were not actually made.”

“Your father sounds delightfully reasonable. It’s a relief not to know all families show poor judgement.”

Elena cocked her head thoughtfully. “If I may say, I don’t consider different judgement to be poor judgement - not in itself. People are going to have strong opinions you don’t share, or do things you don’t agree with. What you have to do is decide if you can live with those differences.”

“How can you tell if it’s possible?”

“Judge their reaction when you express your disagreement with what they want. Do they overrule you or shut you down? Or do they ask why and try to work with you? Someone who reacts gracefully when wrong is far more reliable than someone who is always right.” She chuckled suddenly. “That probably makes no sense.”

“No. I can almost see..” Morgana stood abruptly. “Not important. I’ll let you be, I’m sure you like to rest a little before you depart.”

Elena followed her to the door. “You’re probably right. Well, if I don’t see you again Morgana, thank you. For everything.”

The two women shared a smile.

“You’re most welcome.”

* * *

She passed Uther on her way back to her chambers but barely spared him a glance. The king was busy lecturing Arthur about maintaining good relations between them and Gawant, that he should plan to visit Elena at the first convenient opportunity, etc.

Arthur was listening dutifully but judging by the defiant glint in his eye, Uther was soon going to discover he was fighting a losing battle.

_‘Judge people by how they react when you disagree with them.’_

Elena may not know it but that advice might just be the answer to Morgana’s struggle over knowing who to give her trust to.

Arthur, Merlin, or Gwen, she’d never had any fear in telling them they were wrong. In fact there had been a few times these past few months when they’d depended on her to. She’d seen or heard something that meant changes in plans had to happen - and fast - to avoid their whole arrangement ending in disaster. The last minute scrambling meant frayed nerves and some stress induced bickering, but ultimately it was acknowledged she was right to make it happen. She’d even gotten thank you’s. As Elena said they might disagree but they always listened.

Had Morgause ever done that? At first yes, but things had changed as that year stretched on, in ways Morgana hadn’t wanted to consider before now. She’d chosen to blindly accept that her sister had things in hand and that Morgana’s well being mattered most at all times. Now it was obvious that wasn’t the case. Morgause may care for her, but her recent attitude had shown she was no longer the family Morgana had wanted her to be.

That didn’t mean she was automatically an enemy but...

_But I wouldn’t be putting myself at her beck and call anymore_.

Gathering up Morgause' map and shooting a glance toward her locked door, she lifted her hand to the fireplace and boosted the intensity of the flame with a burst of magic. She held the flare for a long minute before releasing the paper from her grasp and watching it get swallowed up by the fire.

She expected a feeling of sorrow or loss at performing such an irreversible act but instead there was satisfaction. As if she’d finally rid her dress of a dangling thread that’d done nothing but get in the way of things. It was a relief. She’d done enough waiting.

Time to move forward.


End file.
